Don't Say Vampire
by DeltaNovember
Summary: Taylor gains monstrous, vampiric powers and is adopted by Faultline's Crew.
1. Wingspan 1-1

**Author's Forward**

 _Author's Notes will be on my profile page, though not all chapters will have them. If you have any questions, pop me a PM. Thank you for reading._

 **Wingspan 1.1**

My hands trembled so bad I couldn't hold the pencil still. My notes were so unreadable that I gave up, hoping to memorize the teacher's lecture instead. Night classes may have been more relaxed than normal high school—especially without Emma and her cohort's presence—but that silver lining was heavily marred.

I struggled to sort through my backpack to find the right pill bottle. Opening and taking the pill was even more of a challenge. I doubted it would help but at least I felt like I was trying.

"We'll finish with that for today," the teacher said. He put down his chalk and milled about while the students collected their things. The clock read nine-fifty, ten minutes earlier than usual. Dad probably hadn't arrived to pick me up yet so I waited outside the building.

What a terrible mistake that was.

"Well look who it is."

A pit opened in my stomach at Emma Barnes' approach. She was alone, at least. I didn't respond and stared at the ground.

"What, nothing to say?" Emma put her hand on her hip and stood in front of me. "So you scurried away into night classes like a little worm, huh? I should have figured as much."

Just wait long enough and she'll get bored, right? This couldn't have been more than a chance meeting, though now she knew where I went to class.

My mouth went dry but I couldn't reach for my water. Emma would hit it out of my hands. Not that water ever helped anyways.

"You're trembling so much. What a scaredy-cat," she exclaimed. Her laugh hurt my ears. I tried to stop my hands from shaking as she lobbed a few unimaginative insults my way and eventually she released a long, exaggerated sigh. "I have places to be, don't get in my way."

Emma knocked me back with her shoulder and strutted past. I watched her walk down the street and turn the corner. Dad would be here in just a few minutes, there was nothing to do now but wait.

 _...so why am I following her?_

I glided through the street, eerily aware of how silent my steps were. As Emma turned a corner I huddled behind it and saw her walking down the next block. The street was empty. _What is she thinking?_ It was dangerous to be alone this late.

I silently followed her down the street. There were obstacles aplenty to hide behind but not once did she ever look behind her.

Why was I following her? Curiosity was playing a role but there was something more. A _longing._ It was as if she had something of mine, something I needed.

Emma turned into an alleyway. _Does she take drugs or something? I guess that's a possible explanation for her behavior. Maybe._ I ran to the entrance of the alley and slid up against the side of the building.

The streets were dead. Not even a thug walked by.

"I'm here," said Emma. She must have been on her phone. "Yeah, see you soon."

Meeting someone, then. Alright. I had to do it quickly. _Do what quickly? Wait, what was I going to do quickly?_

I stepped from behind the corner and stalked towards Emma. She didn't notice until I was a few yards behind her.

She yelped when she saw me. "Taylor, hell. What is wrong with you?"

Instead of looking to the ground I stared into her eyes. My entire body was trembling. The muscles in my arms spasmed, my upper teeth hurt, my mouth was dry and my back ached. A thousand and one things were wrong with me and it was all this person's fault.

"Taylor, your eyes—"

It was this person's fault, she had something I needed. _Something I needed._

I grabbed Emma by her shoulders and shoved her onto the ground. We both toppled onto the hard pavement and I covered her mouth as she was about to yell. I don't know why. With my other hand I grabbed the top of her blouse and ripped it off. She had a sports bra on but that hardly registered in my mind.

 _What do I need from her?_

My teeth ached. My mouth was dry. I just, from her. I needed... **I needed her.**

Emma struggled to throw me off so I pinned one of her arms down. I was a lot stronger than her, apparently. It barely took any effort to keep her pinned. For a moment I stared, not sure what I was doing.

Then I bit into her neck.

My teeth penetrated deeper than they should have. My canines slid into her skin like knives and the rest dug into her neck after them. I felt Emma's warm blood spill into my mouth and onto my cheeks. It was messy. She tried to scream but I still had my hand over her mouth. Nothing but a muffled moan escaped.

After awhile she stopped moving. I lapped up the blood coming from her neck until it stopped flowing and stood up over her body.

It was only then that I realized what happened.

 _I just killed her. I killed her. She's dead, I just killed—_

I screamed as my back erupted in pain. I couldn't keep my footing and fell onto Emma's body, still screaming. Then with a loud rip that intense pained subsided, turning into a dull throb before disappearing entirely. Tears blurred my sight. I turned my head to try to see what happened.

Two massive black wings jutted out of my back.

 _What?_

I turned around as if that would get me a better view. It didn't work, but the shaking had stopped. The pains, the aches, the dry mouth, _all of it._ All of it had stopped. I felt wonderful. Fantastic. Better than I had felt in months, better than any medication I had been on. Even the morphine for that one week. I felt...

Normal.

"Hey, stop!"

I spun and saw someone standing in the shadows. There wasn't time to think before she raised a crossbow and shot me. It hit me in the forearm. I screamed from the pain and recoiled towards the wall, grasping my arm. The bolt had dug a chunk out of me and gone through.

I tried to run as my attacker phased towards me—for no other word really described it—and reloaded another bolt into her crossbow. I recognized her now. She was Shadow Stalker. _A Ward, just perfect._ I was caught red-handed running away from the scene of a crime.

A crime I definitely committed.

While I had to run _around_ the buildings, Shadow Stalker had the advantage of being able to walk right through them. The next bolt she shot missed, but only barely. I ran regularly on doctor's orders but she still outran me. I think my wings caused a lot of drag.

I tried to move them around so I could run faster but accidentally unfolded them instead. They must have picked up the air rushing by because I was lifted into the air. Almost instinctively I flapped them, launching me higher.

Another bolt hit me in the foot. _Damn._ In a desperate attempt to escape I pushed myself higher and higher into the air with my wings. Eventually I couldn't even see Shadow Stalker down there and she stopped firing at me.

The scene was replaced with a view of the entire city sprawling out before me. It would have been beautiful if not for the question burning a hole in my mind. _What the hell do I do now?_

The pain coming from my arm and foot was nothing. It was probably the adrenaline soon to wear off. But I was a parahuman, I _had_ to be. That's what happened, right? I was one of those case fifty-whatever it was. I had powers.

What they actually were was still an open question, but I had them. I had wings so I could fly, that's one. But at the cost of Emma's life... and in front of witnesses no less. I've already become a villain.

Fuck me. A parahuman for five minutes and I'm already a villain.

My wings spread out across the night sky, catching the wind and letting me effortlessly glide. I was high above Brockton Bay with the warehouses and streets far below me. I wanted to go home, but there was no way I could do such a thing. Not looking like this. Not after what I did.

Dad would probably be worried sick about me.

I couldn't go home. Not yet. I had to think of what to do.

The only place I could think to go was to find an abandoned warehouse down by the docks. The ship graveyard, being what it is, left abandoned warehouses aplenty. I tried to fly down over the sea, but it felt uncomfortable so I glided down over the buildings.

I couldn't see anyone as I touched down on the street. An unused warehouse wasn't hard to find, and even though it was dark I could see the inside perfectly. _I must have better night vision as well. That's interesting._

But that stray thought didn't last long before I collapsed into the fetal position against one of the walls and cried.

 _It's not fair. All I wanted to do was live a normal life, have friends, go to school, that sort of thing. But the entire universe seems stacked against me._

I don't know how long went by. Hours, maybe. I tried to think about what to do or where to go but I didn't get anywhere. My thoughts ran through scene with Emma over and over again. Wishing I could have done anything else. Wishing the past didn't really happen, that maybe I could somehow change it.

Despite how impossible that is.

 _When situations are tough, you're supposed to not dwell on what could have or should have happened. You're supposed to think about what you can do now to fix it._

I looked at my hands. It's not that easy though. It's easy to say quotable things like that, but actually trying to think clearly about this is hard. Too hard.

 _Maybe they'll believe me. Maybe if I turn myself in..._

Hours went by. They must have. I just wanted to sleep and hoped when I woke up it was all a bad dream. But I wasn't tired. Sleep never took me.

"Hello?"

Some girl shouted from a short distance away. Probably down the block, maybe two blocks away. Their voice carried through the silence of the abandoned district. I snuck close to one of the broken windows to look outside but I couldn't see whoever spoke.

"Are you sure this is the place?" A male voice asked.

There was a pause, though I couldn't see what was happening.

"Right, of course you're sure," the voice continued.

"Let's at least wander around a bit."

 _Please, just go away,_ I begged. I held my arms tight and begged that they would leave. But their footsteps only echoed closer and closer. _Just go away, don't see me, keep walking._

Then the bark of a dog. It was decided in that moment that I hate dogs and will hate them forever.

Through the window I saw the dog's approach first, followed by a group of people. I only caught a glimpse of them before I crouched under the window to hide, but they were in costume. Capes. I would have recognized them if they were heroes. So villains.

 _What the hell is happening to me? How come I'm getting wrapped up in all this stuff all of the sudden?_

There was no way to compete with a dog's sense of smell and by the sound of their footsteps I could tell that the group had stopped outside the warehouse I was held up in. What should I do? Fight them? Surrender? I thought this was at least a _somewhat_ safe place to be, but somehow they found me.

"To the person in there," said the girl's voice. "A little birdie told me that you could use some help. Well, more of a little snake."

 _Help? Who knows I'm here and need help?_ I opted to stay quiet.

"I know you're in there and you can hear me." She loudly sighed, probably entirely for my benefit. "You're a cape, right?"

"What do you want?" I asked. There would be no point in staying quiet. I had the feeling she wasn't bluffing about knowing I was here. After all, I _was_ here.

"Nice to meet you. Like I said, we heard you could use some help. Want to take us up on that?"

 _Yes absolutely, but I'm not an idiot._ "Who are you?"

"If you want introductions, maybe you should come out here so we can talk."

I wondered if, should I not go out, they would eventually leave. But it was too enticing. _Help._ I didn't know where they came from, or why, and they were probably lying.

But what else could I possibly do?

I slowly opened the door and inched outside the doorway. I didn't leave the "safety" of the warehouse, not that it _really_ provided any, but it felt better to be able to retreat and slam a door should I have to. I emerged just enough so that my wings were visible by the streetlights.

"Ah," said the girl. She was wearing a full face mask like something a welder would wear. Standing next to her was a really large guy that was, to put it bluntly, extremely ugly. "I see now. My name is Faultline," she said. "Though that's not my _real_ name."

"I am Gregor. It is real enough." He held onto the dog's leash and scratched its head.

I nodded. Slowly. "I'm... Taylor. How did you find me here?"

Faultline shrugged. "I run a parahuman mercenary crew. A client paid us to, quote, 'help the person in need' at this address. We have several people with powers like yours, which is why I think I was called. Forgive the term, but monstrous parahumans is what I mean."

She held out her hand.

"Would you like to come to my place for some rest?"

With much hesitation I took it.

Faultline's place, as it turned out, was not a very good place to rest in any way. It was a club named the Palanquin that seemed to be by all accounts very popular. The sign on the door was entirely uneventful but the line stretched around the corner. It was packed and loud music shook the walls.

Luckily there was a back entrance that led to a nice little lounge, and Faultline said there was a room upstairs I could sleep in. Though I wasn't tired.

"Do you want tea?" Gregor asked. There was a large couch I sat in while Faultline sat in a chair opposite me.

"Y-Yes please," I said quietly. My wings got in the way of sitting comfortably. I fidgeted a lot until I folded them in the right way so I could lean on them painlessly. It was far from an elegant solution, but it was at least mildly comfortable.

I was handed a coffee mug with some type of herbal tea in it. I couldn't recognize the flavor but its warmth rushed through my entire body. Faultline looked ready to say something as I took a sip, but I gulped it down and asked something first.

"Who hired you to help me?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "They stayed anonymous, paid through intermediaries. Why?"

I looked at my hands, then glanced back at my wings. "I've been a parahuman for all of one evening, how could someone have hired you that fast? How did they even know what happened to me?"

Faultline laughed. It sounded more mocking than she probably intended. "You've entered the world of parahumans. Precogs, mind-readers, and fate manipulators. The question isn't so much _how_ they knew, it's why they cared."

I scrunched my eyebrows.

"Ah, no offense."

"That's not—ugh, I don't know." I put my face in my hands. "This is so fucked, I never wanted this. Maybe I daydreamed about being a hero, but not like this."

Faultline stood up from her chair. "Wait," she said. "You remember things before tonight?"

I looked up at her and nodded. "Uh, yes? I didn't suffer memory loss or anything..."

"Do you have any tattoos?"

Where did _that_ question come from? I wasn't even able to form a response.

"Sorry. I know it's strange, but it's important. Do you have a tattoo of a stylized omega symbol? Or maybe a C?"

I shook my head.

Behind Faultline's mask I couldn't see her expression, but I had a feeling she was surprised. Maybe it was in her body language, but in any case she sat back down.

"Why are you interested in that?" I asked.

Faultline crossed her arms. "Most case fifty-threes," she said, "do not remember how they became the way they are. They simply woke up one day with amnesia and an inhuman body. That you remember everything about your life is abnormal. And you don't have the brand. I'm sorry if you don't want to answer, but can you tell me how you became like this?"

I wasn't sure if I should answer her honestly. How I became like this was a felony. It was something that would land me in prison—no, I'm a parahuman, so it would land me in the Birdcage. Did I trust Faultline enough with something like that?

No.

No, but she wasn't a hero. I didn't know much about her, but I knew enough to know they toed the line between rogue and villain. And I really needed to vent. So I started talking. Slowly at first, but then I couldn't stop. I told her everything, how I felt, who Emma was. All of it.

Neither Faultline nor Gregor interrupted. It was only when I was done and in tears that she spoke up.

"What do you want to do?"

"I j-just want to go home," I answered.

"You killed somebody. In front of a witness."

I stood up. "Not intentionally," I exclaimed. "I just lost control. I never wanted to be a villain, I want to be a hero."

"You think villains choose to be so?"

I didn't have a response to that.

She kept going. "Nobody _chooses_ to be a villain. They're forced to be. They have no other option. Christ, just look at yourself Taylor." Faultline got up and went to a cabinet on the other side of the room. "I know it's luck-of-the-draw but you are the most _evil_ looking parahuman I've ever seen." She pulled a hand mirror out and walked back, holding it up in front of me. "See?"

I recoiled from the image. My eyes were red, almost glowing, and two long fangs hung from my jaw. The image _hurt_ from looking at it.

"Sorry," she continued. "But you can't go home. You don't exactly blend in and Shadow Stalker could have seen your face. You have to lay low. At least for now. You are a villain, and like so many before you it's not by choice. I don't mean to be a harbinger of bad news but the Wards would have a tough time with you even if you _hadn't_ killed somebody on your debut night."

I clutched one of the throw pillows to my chest.

"You can join my crew if you wish," Faultline said. "Or you can surrender to the PRT. Or maybe a third option I haven't thought of. Sleep on it."

"I'm not tired."

Faultline walked towards me, looking at my arm. "Old injury?" She asked.

"I got it in the fight with Shadow Stalker."

She coughed. "Flight and fast healing. Not a bad combo to have. I'll be in my office. If you're not tired, just relax."

Faultline left, leaving me and Gregor. He didn't seem like the talkative type so I retreated to my own thoughts instead. I'm glad I had a place to stay but I'm sure her generosity will run out. Whoever paid her to help me probably only meant for a day or two.

But I'm safe. For a brief moment, I'm safe.

Flight and fast healing, huh. But there's more than that. I _drank_ Emma's blood. And if the past few months are any indication I'm sensitive to sunlight and afraid of running water. Not to mention obsessive. Most capes have a singular power that can be described in a sentence at most. Capes all have "a thing that they do."

But me? I have no idea what I _do._ I just seem like a collection of miscellaneous parahuman traits somebody couldn't figure out what to do with.

"Ladies, ladies, please." A laugh came from the door as an orange man walked through. I'd heard of him before, that's Newter. And—yep, there's his prehensile tail. He had a woman on each arm as he strolled into the back room. It took him a moment before he noticed me sitting there and raised his brow. "Wait for me over there," he whispered to his lady friends. They went and sat in one of the corner couches.

"Uh, hi." I waved. Newter didn't sit down, but he strolled over.

"I'm Newter, you?"

"Taylor."

"That's it?" He looked disappointed. "I half expected you to call yourself 'Dragon Lady' or 'Batwoman' or 'The Devil' based on how you look. Just 'Taylor?'"

I pouted. "That's my _name._ Asshole."

He laughed and gripped the back of the seat Faultline had sat in. His tail whipped around loosely. "What brought ya here?"

Before I could answer, Faultline came back out of her office. "You're on TV," she said looking at me.

Newter joined me in her office. It was relatively clean save a little clutter on the corner of her desk. The small stack of papers was held down with a black pistol. I looked away from the gun and towards the moderately-sized television mounted on the wall.

 **Breaking News: 17-year-old Emma Barnes killed by an unknown parahuman.**

There was a picture of Emma on the screen while the newscaster talked, then they flashed a couple of photographs that had a silhouette of me in the sky. I could tell it was me, but it was hardly an identifying photograph. Well, at least that-

 _"Taylor Hebert is currently wanted in connection with this incident. If anyone sees this person please notify police immediately. It is unknown whether she is another victim or if she is the perpetrator."_

Great.

"That's you," Newter said flatly. "Well, without the fangs and crazy eyes and wings."

I touched my fangs with my tongue. Still there.

"God dammit." I dropped down onto the floor and leaned up against the wall best I could, though my wings got in the way. I leaned anyways and put my head in my hands. "I really can't go home now, can I?"

The news kept going on about the incident until I asked them to turn it off. There wasn't much I could do but think. I had no idea what to do. In just one night... no, just one _hour_ I had lost everything to me. I walked back to the couch and sat, staring at the ceiling. It was simple and wooden. The grain ran long-ways towards the front of the club of which the music still blasted, muted through what must have been sound-dampening walls.

But despite how messed up I felt in my head, my body felt _fantastic._ All of the ailments that marred me for the past few months cleared up perfectly. I felt like I could run for a hundred miles.

There was no way I could go outside at the moment though. Instead I paced, sat in silence, drank tea and stared at the walls.

After spending an entire night in Faultline's place I came up with nothing. I had no idea what I was going to do and there wasn't anything left but to sleep. Right around the time the sun rose I drifted off.

It was four in the afternoon when I woke up. The club wasn't open yet. It was one of those places that only opened when the sun went down. No one was there except for me so the whole establishment was dark and quiet. It felt nice.

There wasn't anything to do except sit around and resume the activities of last night. No new ideas came to me. I flipped on Faultline's television to see if anything had developed regarding my situation.

Nothing happened until the six o'clock news. Apparently it wasn't important enough to interrupt the regular broadcast, but it felt plenty important to me:

 **Body of Emma Barnes goes missing from county morgue early this morning.**

What.

What does that even mean? That had nothing to do with me. Someone stole her body? It might have been Faultline's crew trying to help but I didn't see how it helped at all. Before I could confront her about it she came back with her whole team.

"I'll introduce you," Faultline said. "You've met Gregor the Snail and Newter already, but these are the other two." Flanking Faultline on both sides were two girls about my age, though it was hard to tell for sure behind their masks. "This is Labyrinth and Spitfire."

They both shook my hand. Labyrinth showed no hesitation but her grip was weak, while Spitfire was the opposite. Her grip was strong but was clearly nervous at my appearance. While both of their names were familiar, I didn't know the first thing about them. Not even what their powers were.

The sad truth was I paid a lot more attention to the heroes than the villains, and now it's going to bite me in the ass. But before any of that,

"Did you steal Emma's body?" I asked.

Faultline raised an eyebrow. "No, why? Was it stolen?"

I nodded.

"It doesn't really help you in any way. Probably someone else at work," Faultline said, sitting down on one of the couches. The lounge was a large area and probably meant to entertain a sizable crowd. If the Palanquin _had_ an original owner, it was probably originally a VIP area. Now though it was Faultline's crew's personal quarters.

The furniture was nice.

"Have you come to any decisions?" She asked.

"No," I said quietly. "I just don't know what to do. I'm sorry."

At my response Labyrinth started sobbing. I looked over and Spitfire held her hand and led her away into one of the back rooms. I didn't think what I said was that disappointing, especially to someone I just met.

"Sorry," Faultline said. "She's having one of her bad days."

"Oh." I didn't want to press for more information.

"Anyways, I said it before, but there's a spot here for you if you want it." Faultine gestured towards nothing in particular. The club, I guess. "We're mercenaries so we follow the money. Anything short of murder. We do have a _little_ bit of a conscience after all." She smiled. "We have a job going down this weekend if you want in on it. I could use your help."

 _A job? Faultline wants me for one of her jobs?_ "What exactly would I have to do?" I asked.

"It's a kidnapping."

My heart sank. "Umm. When you say kidnapping, you don't happen to mean mediate a kidnapping that's already happened... or prevent one from happening soon... or anything like that, do you?"

As expected Faultline shook her head. "We're going to snatch somebody. All in all it won't be too hard, but the client wants the parahuman muscle for some reason or other. Honestly, you don't have to do much except hang around and be intimidating."

"I can't," I said immediately. "I can't kidnap somebody."

"How about for twenty grand?"

 _Oh no._

I liked to pretend. Sitting in class, being tormented by Emma and the others, I liked to pretend. Pretend I could resist the urge for vengeance, resist the temptation and become a hero. It was a powerful fantasy, so I knew the right decision.

I deny the cash. It was so simple. The villains tempt you with power and gold and all you have to do is grab somebody and stuff them in a bag for a few hours. All that wealth, so easily. But the heroes resist that temptation. That's what it means to be a hero.

And here I was, thinking about it.

 _Some hero I am._ Reality always put a cruel twist on things. Dad had accrued large medical bills because of me. We had payments to make on the house and not a large enough income to do it. Dad wouldn't let me work part-time jobs, but we really needed me working.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm not being the big bad trying to tempt you, Taylor. I'm offering you twenty thousand dollars for services rendered, and a career should you wish to take it."

The heroic thing to do would be to go against all odds and probably almost definitely be sent to jail anyways, with a slight sliver of a chance of something better happening. And maybe if I didn't think about it too hard I would have made that decision. Maybe if my brain didn't say, "hold on a minute, think about this for a second" I could have been the hero.

But I could make those medical bills vanish this weekend.

I can have a bed to sleep in tonight.

The choice was obvious even if it was one I didn't want to make.

"O-Okay, I'll join you."

Faultline held out her hand and I shook it. "Welcome to the crew," she said as Newter cheered in the background.

"I'll pop some champagne," he said. A small smile came to my lips. This felt like I was about to go down a road I could never come back from. But what else was I going to do? And these people were being nice to me.

Spitfire eventually came back down and took a glass of the champagne Newter prepared, but I just had a soda. I was underage after all.

Eventually Faultline took out a large rolled up map and put it on the coffee table. "So, this is how it's going to go down." She dropped a photograph on the table of a young girl. She couldn't have been over twelve years old. "This is Dinah Alcott, our target. She's the daughter of a mayoral candidate. We have a lot on her: school schedule, bus routes, all that. Plus our client said if we gave him a definitive date and time he can have a distraction at the ready that will tie up the Wards."

Faultline pushed the picture to the side and revealed the map.

"This is the area around the elementary school," she explained. "The bus comes along this arterial road off the freeway, turns off here, comes back at this intersection." She kept explaining the plan, but something was nagging at my mind.

"Sorry." It was hard to comment on planning a _kidnapping_. It felt like I should have let them make their errors and fail. But for some reason I was doing this.

"Go ahead."

"You said we had a distraction for the Wards, but, um, what about the actual Protectorate? Or that other group, or the actual police?"

"New Wave is the other group," Gregor said. "Taylor is right. The Wards are not the largest issue we must worry about."

"Aha, _but!_ " Faultline circled an area on the map. It was jarring just how enthusiastic she was about this. "This is where I want to make the grab. It's in the Wards' jurisdiction which means they would be scrambled first, except they'll already be sent away from the distraction. So there will be a slight delay as the call gets routed to the Protectorate as well as a delay for them to arrive. This delay may only be minutes, but I don't plan on taking that long. If all goes according to plan, we won't even see another parahuman."

That wasn't my only concern, I threw tons more at her. If I was going to do this, and it really seemed like I was, then I was going to do it successfully. We kept discussing it until late in the evening. Faultline said we would go over it tomorrow and the next day and the next insisted on being thorough.

The next morning Faultline and the others left to go gather what they'd need to pull this off. I couldn't join them, being on the lam, and was trapped in the Palanquin. And the only thing to do in here was to watch TV. I had been demoted from breaking news to a quick blurb every now and then. The news cycles are harsh.

Someone sat on the couch next to me. They weren't in costume at all but by how spaced out they looked I had to guess Labyrinth. She should be the only person around.

After sitting down she looked at the TV, then at me.

"Do you want to watch something?" I asked.

She nodded and held out her hand. I put the remote in it and she held it carefully. After staring at the remote for a few seconds she firmly pressed the "2" key and then the "9" key. Commercials came up so I took a look at the clock. It was almost the top of the hour.

Labyrinth then turned around and tugged on one of my wings. "Can you feel?"

"Uh, yeah. A little bit." My wings were not that sensitive but I could still feel Labyrinth tugging on them. Then she ran her fingers over the leathery parts.

"Neat."

Her show started so that was the end of the conversation. There wasn't anything else for me to do but watch it with her. Some animated program I assumed was for children by how simple the plot was, but it was better than thinking about all the terrible shit out in the real world coming to get me.

After her program Labyrinth dutifully pressed the mute button on the remote and then leaned over and put her head on my lap. I gave her a look but she'd already closed her eyes. _Well then. I guess this is happening._

I flipped the station back to something else and lowered the volume so not to wake her. This didn't make me feel like a villain at all, but I knew in my mind the rest of Faultline's crew was out there making preparations for something _extremely_ villainous.

And sure enough the weekend arrived before I knew it. I hadn't left the Palanquin since I arrived and this was my first time out in the city since that night.

"Any second thoughts?" Newter asked from behind the steering wheel. We were in what I could only call a 'rape van.'

"Yes. Lots." I tried to grin when he turned around to stare at me. "But I'll do it anyways."

"That's the spirit." He drummed on the wheel. The windows were tinted, even the front windshield which I'm fairly certain is illegal. It doesn't _sound_ legal. "Ah, thar she blows."

A yellow school bus drove past us. Newter pulled the van out from its parking space and followed behind the bus from a safe not-so-suspicious distance. It was early in the morning and the morning fog still hung over the city.

Unfortunately, the fog itself irritated me. Something to do with water I imagine, another thing I have trouble with. At least it wasn't sunny.

We passed by Arcadia. I looked out at the school as we drove past. It was way better kept than Winslow ever was. There were watered lawns and buildings without the mark of graffiti or grime. I never thought of Brockton Bay of having much of a division between the upper and lower class, but Arcadia did have a way of throwing it in my face. Fuckers.

"Brace yourself," Newter said. I held onto the handle in the door and onto my seat. I had gotten better at sitting with my wings but it was still uncomfortable. Newter stared at the bus and counted down as it passed by an unassuming sign.

I was surprised by the detail Faultline's crew put into their plans. Their Range Rover can do zero to sixty in 8.6 seconds, which covers a distance of about 115 meters. A school bus traveling the speed limit of 30 miles per hour will cover roughly the same distance. The difference is small enough to correct with minor steering.

Everything worked out perfectly as a Range Rover with a large bull bar shot out from the intersection, smashing into the front of the school bus. The bus spun forty-five degrees from the impact, its hood and engine completely trashed. The Range Rover didn't get off scot-free either, but _it_ still looked drivable. The front bumper wasn't exactly as attached as it once was, however.

Faultline got out and ran over to the bus, smashing the front door in with her power. Newter and I hopped out of the van while Labyrinth stayed in the back, watching us intently. Newter and I ran towards the back of the bus. I grabbed onto the back door and ripped it off its hinges as Newter hopped in. I'd only meant to open it. Faultline entered from the front, holding a gun to the driver's head.

I looked inside. The kids were screaming in terror. All of them except one, who sat quietly in the middle. Our target, Dinah, sat there as if she was waiting for us. Newter grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out. She didn't resist.

Labyrinth opened the van door and Newter tossed Dinah inside before running back around to the driver's seat. I hopped in and closed the door, helping Laybrinth tie Dinah up. She held out her hands and resigned herself to her fate.

" _Grab complete, ninty-five seconds."_ Faultline said over our radios.

It didn't seem real. Ninty-five seconds. It took a minute and a half to turn a perfectly typical bus drive into a major crash and kidnapping. There were witnesses, sure, but the time it takes someone to see what's happening, decide to call emergency services, describe the situation, and for the dispatcher to notify the Protectorate, who _then_ has to scramble available heroes...

I would hazard to say we were already driving away before anyone in the Protectorate knew what happened.

"Faultine's good at this sort of thing," Newter said. He drove the van wildly away from the scene and in a minute we were a mile away. "We've only failed two jobs so far because of her plans."

We pulled into an underground parking garage after five minutes without a single cape converging on us. Newter had stopped driving like a maniac after the first minute and casually pulled into the lot. I couldn't help but notice a few white service vans parked in the same lot.

" _I can't say for sure, but I'm guessing some of the heroes are at the crash by now."_ Said Faultline over the radio. _"Without any villains to fight, someone's probably told them about the rover and the van. Go ahead with the primary plan, we're on schedule."_

Labyrinth and I grabbed Dinah, making sure she was gagged, and pulled her out of the van. The garage was devoid of people and we swiftly moved her into a nearby sedan. Newter took the fake license plate off the van and tossed them under the driver's seat in the new car. I sat with Dinah in the back seat while Newter and Labyrinth sat up front.

We pulled out of the garage with no one the wiser, leaving a van with legitimate license plates. _I guess they might want to come back for it at some point._

Dinah stared at me the entire drive. She looked like she wanted to say something but I didn't remove the gag to give her a chance.

The drive was silent as we drove to a nondescript empty lot. It wasn't even paved. Inside was a black limousine and standing next to it were Faultline, Spitfire and someone I didn't recognize. Newter pulled up along side them. All that was left to do was transfer Dinah to our client and the plan would have gone off perfectly.

 _Too_ perfectly. I stared up at the sky, expecting someone like Glory Girl to heroically stop our evil deeds just in the nick of time.

"..."

Nope, guess that isn't happening. We all watched the limousine speed off with Dinah to parts unknown.

"You should probably learn to drive at some point," Newter said.

"I'm fifteen."

"Which would be relevant if you needed a license." Newter whacked the side of the sedan. "What I said was you should learn how to drive."

I would have responded to that had we not just kidnapped somebody. Driving without a license seemed a lot less significant compared to that.

"That was pretty brazen," I said. "Can we just go back to the Palanquin? Won't the Protectorate be waiting for us?"

"They won't dare," Faultline said with a laugh. "We're located so close to Lord Street for a reason, you know. It's the busiest street in the entire city. The Protectorate can't afford to have a cape battle anywhere near there. The casualties and property damage would be way too high. They couldn't survive the PR hit."

Newter snorted. "They'll just pressure the local PD to piss us off for a few weeks. Shut down the club for a night for a made-up reason."

Sure enough, no heroes were waiting for us at the Palanquin. We all met in the back for drinks. Despite what we had done there was a certain flawless elegance to what we did. No fights between villains and heroes. Nothing large or flashy. When it came down to it we just smashed into the bus, grabbed the girl and sped off.

"Cheers!" Newter clicked my glass.

"Good show," Spitfire followed up with, also toasting my soda. But I wasn't as ecstatic as the others. Who knows what's going to happen to Dinah now? Whoever we captured her for might ransom her back, but there could be something more sinister in store for her. What if he kills her? Or something even worse?

Not to mention the trauma we probably caused the kids on the bus. And their families will get afraid and people in the community will start worrying for their children. It was so short but it could have consequences lasting months or years.

"Lighten up," Spitfire said. I realized she was staring at me.

"It's hard." I stared into my cup. "I feel bad about what we did."

Spitfire nodded, but it was Faultline who spoke up. "That's fine, it means you're a human being," she said. "But you're not _responsible_ for it. Even if you hadn't participated, we would have done it anyways. Even if you had convinced us not to do the job, our client would have just found somebody else. Dinah was going to be kidnapped."

Faultline dropped a sack onto the table and unzipped it, revealing the cash stuffed inside. She began sorting it into piles, and then slid one towards me.

"That's the thing about being a mercenary," she said. "And why the Protectorate gives us a little leeway. The real villains worth catching are the ones filling our pockets. If no one hires us to do anything then we won't cause trouble. Here's your cut, you've earned it."

It was eerie how casually Faultline slid twenty thousand dollars cash across the table to me. It didn't even feel like mine. It didn't even feel like money, it was some foreign substance I've never seen before. Could this pile of green paper really be _twenty thousand dollars?_

I wasn't sure what to do with it.

But before I could open my mouth to respond somebody knocked at the door. All of us looked towards the door. The club was closed. Not even a bouncer was out on the main floor, so for a knock to be coming from that door...

" _Spits and Labs left,"_ Faultline whispered. _"Taylor and I right."_

The four of us flanked the door on either side while Newter and Gregor readied themselves farther behind us. The knocking continued and sounded almost like scratching.

"Name yourself," Faultline shouted loudly.

A feminine voice from the other side started to say something, but broke into a coughing fit. "P-Please," she said. "I need to, to..."

"Name yourself," Faultline repeated.

"I-I'm," she rasped. "I'm Emma."


	2. Wingspan 1-2

**Wingspan 1.2**

I froze.

Faultline stared at me and I think she whispered something but I couldn't hear her over my own thoughts.

 _Did she say Emma? It sounds a little like her but it's hard to tell. It can't be though, she's dead. I killed her, Emma Barnes is dead. One hundred percent dead._ My hands started shaking. _It's not one of those mistaken-for-dead situations. I drained her blood. All of it. I watched her die. I saw the life drain away from her. She's dead._

 _Whoever this person is at the door, it's not Emma Barnes. It's a coincidence._

"It can't be her," I whispered to Faultline. I don't know if it was an actual answer to her question, but Faultline gritted her teeth.

"I'm going to open the door, Emma." Faultline said loudly. "Stay at least five feet away and in clear view."

"O-Okay," Emma said from the other side.

It couldn't be her. It couldn't be her.

Faultline reached for the knob and swung the door open. There was a tense moment where all of us waited for something to happen, but all that happened was a cold draft blew into the room. Eventually we peeked our heads out at our mysterious guest.

 _It's her._

Standing there in the doorway was Emma Barnes. Her clothes were ripped, her skin was pale and her eyes were deep red. She stepped towards me shakily and I took a step back.

"It can't be. You're—"

"H-Help me," she said. Her voice trembled and she took another step. As her foot landed she winced. Faultline and the others kept their guard up, but Emma didn't look in any condition to put up a fight.

"I thought you said she was dead," Faultline said.

"She was."

"Ta—... Ta—..." Emma tried to say something but couldn't. She rubbed her throat. "Help me. M-My throat is dry and, and... I can't s-stop shaking..." She fell to her knees and shuffled towards me. I had no idea what to do but stand my ground. I let her reach me and grab onto my shirt while the others watched. She looked up at me with pleading, glowing red eyes. "H-Help."

I didn't know what to say. "Emma, I—"

"I-I'm sorry."

"What?"

She coughed. "I-I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I'll do a-anything... anything you ask." She pushed her head against my stomach. "I have no heartbeat... Ma...master, p-please. Command me."

I couldn't move. I couldn't even think. _Nothing_ made sense. I must be dreaming because the alternative is the entire world has gone insane. The only action I could think to do was to look up at Faultline for direction, because I had none.

Emma grasped my shirt with her shaking hands. _Did she call me master?_

"So," Newter said lazily pointing at Emma. "Is this a two-for-the-price-of-one type of deal or an oh-god-kill-it-with-fire type of deal?"

Faultline seemed at a loss herself. "The first, for now," she said hesitantly. She turned to me. "Evidence suggests you're master-class." She looked at Emma, then back at me. "For humans. Keep this particular aspect of your power _very_ secret. If anyone calls you on it I want you to flat out deny it. Controlling humans _never_ sits right with people."

I could only bow my head in agreement. Whatever my powers were just got a lot scarier. Emma was _dead._ She was definitely dead. The medical examiner took her to the morgue and everything. It was on the news and yet she stood here very much alive, heartbeat or no.

It was luck of the draw, and I had none. My power _never_ would have let me of been a hero. It was never my choice. This sort of power could not be used for good.

"M-Master," Emma said with pleading eyes.

I wrapped my arms around Emma's head and shoulders.

"It's okay, Emma." The next words out of my mouth surprised even me. "I'll protect you."

I helped Emma over to one of the couches and sat down next to her. She held onto my shirt with one hand, though her grip was weak. It wasn't the Emma who I knew and loathed. It wasn't even the Emma from years ago that was my friend.

It was a wounded animal.

The rest of the crew found seats nearby. We asked Emma what happened, but it took a while for her to get the words out. "I-I woke up on a table. It was cold and I couldn't stop shivering." She pressed her cheek against my arm. "Getting b-better now. All I could think about was master. I-I'm so sorry, master. I tried to find you at night but didn't know where you were. Then you were on the news this morning."

Faultline nodded. "They reported the kidnapping an hour after we did it. The report mentioned the Palanquin."

"Y-Yeah," said Emma. "I came right over."

I scrunched my eyebrows. It was two in the afternoon and the morning fog had long since cleared. "Emma, you said you tried to find me at night."

"The sun hurts."

I nodded. "You came anyways."

"O-Of course, master."

"What does that mean?" Spitfire asked.

"She inherited some things from me," I explained. "I can't go out in the sun, for one. Her red eyes as well. I don't know the full scope of my own abilities so I can't say for certain." After a moment I added, "and I'm not sure I want to."

"You were fine this morning," Newter said.

I shook my head. "There was fog. It's only direct sunlight I can't stand." I yawned. Now that I thought about it, I usually slept around this time.

"That would have been tactically relevant information to have," Faultline said.

 _Oops._

She sighed and stared at me. Then she stared at Emma. "You both should rest," Faultline said. "Especially Emma. I'll think about what to do about this."

I nodded and got up. Faultline had let me use a small room with a couch in it as a bedroom, which was more than I could have asked for. Emma followed me to the room and I collapsed on the couch. Emma laid down next to me and fell asleep clutching my shirt, but I couldn't follow her.

 _Poor Dinah._ I stared at the wooden ceiling tracing the lines in the wood. Faultline said I shouldn't feel responsible for it, but I did. _I traded her freedom for my own._ There wasn't any justification I could make, nor did I deserve to. I was the sort of person who would trade the life of a little girl for my own.

I held Emma tight as my lip quivered. I thought Faultline was my way out of what I had done, but I was wrong. Faultline was going to lead me down the path to darkness.

At some point I fell asleep because it was evening when I woke up. The clock on the wall said eleven.

Emma was still fast asleep with one arm wrapped around my waist. _So none of that was a dream, then._ I slowly grabbed her arm and slid it off of me.

I snuck out of the room leaving Emma to sleep. I could hear the muffled pop music vibrating the walls, so the club was open. I found Spitfire alone in the lounge listening to her headphones. When she saw me she took them off.

"Good evening," she said. "Or, uh. Morning?"

"Hi."

"Faulty wanted to talk to you after you woke up. She's in her office."

"Okay."

I shuffled towards her office and knocked on the thick, wooden door. She called me in after a moment. Inside wasn't just her, but an older man in a suit. He had the look of a high-class gangster. The kind who would tie your legs to cinder blocks and dump you in a river.

"This is Christian," Faultline said. "He's our accountant, so to say."

I had a feeling his duties were a bit beyond normal accounting. But I shook his hand.

"You said you wanted to use your payment to pay off some medical bills, right?" She asked. "Christian is the man who can make that happen."

"Ah, alright then."

Christian reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here's my number," he said. "Consider me your personal adviser on all financial concerns."

"Thanks." I took the card. "So do you need my information or anything? Like Faultline said, I have medical bills..."

He nodded and took out a small legal pad. After a few questions he jotted down some notes and put it away. "That's all I need. That, and the cash."

"Right, of course."

"I put it in your room," Faultline said. "Give him no more than fifteen. You'll need the rest."

"For what?" There wasn't anything I needed five thousand dollars for. Nothing I could think of, at least.

"For your apartment. I'm glad to have you on the team, but you can't live here in the club."

An _apartment?_ I wasn't ready to have an apartment. The Palanquin was far from pristine living conditions, sure. There _was_ a fridge, but it was filled with beer. And there _was_ food, but it was junk food. And the closest thing to an oven was the cheap microwave. But an actual apartment was too much.

"Can't I go home?" I asked. "I'm on a parahuman team. Aren't there rules or something?"

Faultline waved Christian out of the room. When he shut the door behind him she spoke. "There are. We don't go after families of capes or their secret identities. It's not written down, but it's generally respected." She frowned. "But the problem is you don't _have_ a secret identity. You can breath easily knowing your family is protected by the code, but that doesn't mean you can go back there. The PRT will be watching your house like hawks. Taylor Hebert is the criminal here, not... well, you don't have a cape name, actually."

"Sounds like I don't need one," I said softly.

"Which is the unfortunate point." Faultline put her hand in her lap. "If you really want to go home I won't stop you, but you're only putting yourself and your family at risk. You certainly can't live there as if nothing happened. The Palanquin offers certain protections, but those don't reach out past Lord Street."

I sighed. I had a feeling that was the case. If I went home only bad things would happen, but I still really wanted to.

Maybe an apartment to call my own would ease that pain, even if only by a small amount. I submitted to Faultline's plan and collapsed into the chair across her desk.

"I don't want to do this," I said. It was barely more than a whimper.

Faultline straightened up in her chair. "I know, Taylor," she said. "And I'm sorry. It's not to late for you to walk away, but one day it will be. All I can do is give you advice."

I said nothing.

"Prison won't be worth it. You'll feel good that you did the right thing and turned yourself in. That will last a week. A week later, you'll find yourself bored. A week later, you'll want to breath fresh air again. Then you'll realize you're going to spend the rest of your life in that little room." She tapped her fingers on her desk. "If you hate it here, the Undersiders will treat you right. The Empire too, since you're white."

I shook my head and forced myself out of the chair. "I won't leave."

"Please talk to any of us if you need it."

I nodded and left her office. Spitfire and Labyrinth were at the other end of the room playing a match of chess against each other. I collapsed on the couch and watched them.

Labyrinth gingerly picked up each piece and firmly placed it where she intended it to go. She never thought about her actions, in stark contrast to Spitfire who looked ready to pull her hair out. My understanding of chess wasn't great, but it was obvious Labyrinth was toying around with her.

Once Labyrinth inevitably won, she turned towards me. "Adapt or die."

Spitfire groaned. "Ice cold, Labs." She got up and stretched. "So the boss put you in touch with our banker?"

"Yeah."

"Good. We talked this over and—not to offend—but you really need to get your own place." Spitfire shrugged. "And some clothes. And you need to shower. You just need to clean yourself up a bit, girl."

"I'm afraid of running water."

"That's dumb."

I coughed. "It's not like I had a choice in the matter."

"Fine fine." Spitfire waved her hands back and fourth. "So an apartment with a bathtub. There's a couple of places that will rent to monstrous parahumans."

"There's a vacancy in my building," Newter interrupted. He walked in from the main floor with a few empty bottles in his hand, presumably cleaning up the bar. "Owner's great if you pay on time and he doesn't ask any questions. Just don't pay late." He raised an empty bottle in my direction. "I mean it. Don't pay late."

There wasn't room for me to get a word in edgewise as Newter and Spitfire went back and fourth about the apartment they were going to have me rent, the clothes they were going to have me wear and a bunch of other stuff they were going to have me do. None of it sounded affordable, but if Faultline's crew regularly pulled jobs worth half as much as the last one it wouldn't be an issue.

While they spoke Emma came into the lounge. The two of them shut up and turned towards her. She looked around until she saw me and then trotted over. "Good morning, master." She said.

She wasn't as pale as she was last night, but she still had red eyes and two small fangs. Emma was like a more tame version of what I turned into.

"I guess you'll have a roommate?" Spitfire asked.

I looked at Emma. She stared at me expectantly. "I suppose," I resigned. There wasn't much else I could do. It was my fault Emma was like this no matter how I feel about her. It was my responsibility.

That much I could put right.

I didn't know the first thing about finding an apartment, but Newter and Spitfire were more than happy to do it for me. The apartment we ended up renting was a moderately-sized one bedroom on the third floor. The neighborhood wasn't the best of places since it was in the middle of the Empire's territory, but they controlled half the city so there wasn't much to do about that. There were bars on the windows.

The landlord eyed me until I handed him first and last month's rent. He dropped the key in my hand and that was the extent of my interaction with him. The stairwell was a little narrow for my wings, the hallway had peeling paint and the door was yellowed. There wasn't any furniture in the apartment itself, but it could have been worse.

I stared at the empty apartment. _I want to go home._

When it was just Spitfire, Emma and me in the apartment, Spitfire took off her mask and held out her hand. "I'm Emily."

"Do you really trust me that much?" I asked.

She nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I shook her hand. "Thank you, Emily."

"Don't sweat it. I can't go shopping all dressed up in costume anyways."

Emily wanted to take me shopping with her, but that was impossible. Putting aside the fact that sunlight made me weak, I was still wanted by the PRT. I didn't have the advantage of a civilian identity. I had gotten into this cape business all wrong and now I couldn't go outside without somebody calling the Protectorate.

Sympathetic to my plight, Emily went out and bought everything for me. It left me victim to her own opinions on what good furnishings would be, but she didn't go crazy. She bought mostly run-of-the-mill furniture we had to put together ourselves.

"Okay, I've got it master."

We enlisted Emma's help. She would be living with me from now on anyways. There were no complaints from her on the matter and I couldn't let her go home. Things were bad enough without a reanimated Emma saying hi to her parents.

Soon the one-bedroom was furnished with tables, beds, chairs, couches and even a television. "Perfect," Emily declared. "Well, maybe not perfect. Livable."

There were a few special arrangements Emma and I needed, first and foremost thick drapes over all the windows. I considered painting over the glass completely but decided against it. We also performed some amateur plumbing on the sink and bath to try to slow the water running out of it. It was still hard to use but we'd manage.

This place, for all its oddities, was mine. Well, Emma's and mine. Though Emma was also sort of... mine, in a way. I glanced at her and she returned it with a smile. I always thought the first time living on my own would be under much different circumstances.

A knock came at the door and Emily went to open it.

"Ah, Elle. Glad you found it."

Labyrinth, who was now apparently just Elle since she wasn't in costume, walked into my place wheeling a suitcase behind her. She spun it out and Emily grabbed it, setting it on the table. She unzipped it and pulled out a few articles of clothing.

"Wala, your new clothes. I had Elle modify them so you could put them on over your wings."

I looked over at her. "You can sew?"

She nodded and a faint smile left her lips.

After a few more little things here and there the apartment was livable, so we ordered pizza and invited Newter up to join. We crowded around my little dining table feasting on the cheap, greasy food. I couldn't help but be amazed at the odd group we were. Life sure was surreal.

After the obligatory move-in pizza we said our goodbyes and everyone went home. Newter handed me a cell phone and said someone would call when another job came in, so until then I could relax. It left Emma and me alone in the apartment. To bond, I guess.

"Want me to brush your hair, master?" She asked.

Emma sat on the couch behind me and brushed my hair. I flipped something on the TV, but couldn't pay attention. My thoughts drifted to to Heartbreaker of all people. His was the closest power to mine I could think of, but he was lucky. His power sounded reversible.

How was I supposed to reverse what I'd done to Emma? Knowing my luck it won't even be possible. It didn't _sound_ possible.

I caught Emma humming to herself as she ran the comb through my hair. "Having fun?" I asked.

"Lots," she exclaimed. I shouldn't spoil it for her. It felt nice, too.

Being nocturnal, we were up the entire night doing nothing besides watching crappy TV and playing cards. It took awhile for Emma to catch on to the fact I didn't want her to let me win. It reminded me of when we were friends, though the illusion was shattered every time she called me "master." During the days we both slept.

Faultline's call came a few days later, on the last night of April.

"Hello?" I asked.

" _It's Faultline. Meet us at the Palanquin."_

My heart sank. "Another job?" I wasn't ready to ruin another person's life.

 _"No. It's more like, well, you know how corporations have terrible, pointless, useless meetings you have to go to anyways?"_

"I'm fifteen, so no."

There was a pause on Faultline's end. _"You know how sometimes the school is called into the assembly building for a useless announcement no one cares about?"_

"Yeah."

 _"Think of it like that. Now hurry up."_

That was the extent of the conversation. I wondered if I should have Emma come with, but opted to keep her in the apartment. There was a look of disappointment in her eyes but she didn't say anything. She just bowed and sat on the couch.

I left the apartment and headed to the club. It was easier for me to move about in the middle of the night without being spotted. Though when I got to the club it looked like everyone was getting ready to head out.

"Are we going somewhere?" I asked.

"We are," Faultline said. "Something's happened. I'll explain on the way."

The way turned out to be to the most uninviting restaurant I'd ever seen. There was a sign calling itself Somer's Rock out in front, but it looked like the nails were going to give way any minute. For some reason Faultline's crew gave the place a surprising amount of respect. Faultline was happy to explain.

Somer's Rock was neutral ground. No using powers, no aggressive actions or fighting, no provoking, nothing like that. Such places were necessary for the good of all villain-kind. Apparently. Faultline had laid it into me pretty hard that I needed to be on my best behavior, not that she was worried, but her crew _especially_ needed to make a good impression at these secret villain meetings. Their jobs lived and died on reputation.

This must have been one of those do-as-I-say, not-as-I-do moments though because the first person we met Faultline flipped off.

"Nice to see you too," the victim replied. A girl about my age wearing a skintight costume and domino mask. She was in a booth with what I imagined was the rest of her team. Faultline moved past them and sat us at a booth near the back.

"Friend of yours?" I asked as I slid into the seat opposite Faultline.

"Don't ask," Gregor replied in Faultline's place. I dropped the inquiry and let Faultline start lecturing me on everyone as they walked into the pub. She started with those we passed, the Undersiders. They never pulled anything major but also never got caught. Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Bitch.

In next were the Merchants, a group of drug peddlers and prostitutes. Faultline said they were the lowest of the low and not worth considering in any serious capacity.

Faultline didn't know anything about the next group except they were called "The Travelers," and after them a man she called Coil showed up. She didn't say much about him except that he paid well.

I wasn't sure if anyone else was going to show up, but a man in a suit of armor walked in with quite a strut. Behind him was someone else in a wolf mask.

"That's Kaiser," Faultline explained. "Leader of Empire Eighty-eight." They were definitely the most well-known gang around, mostly due to their size. He scoffed at Skidmark's presence but took a seat at the center table. "Behind him is Hookwolf," Faultline added.

"I think we should get started, then." Coil said. "The ABB don't seem to be coming, for good reason."

"What is this all about, Coil?" Kaiser asked. His voice was stern with a thick German accent. "All I've heard from my people is rumors and hearsay."

Coil put his hands on the table. "Then allow me to alleviate any confusion or doubt. We're here because of a member of the ABB, Bakuda. She joined a few months ago, and while we all knew she was dangerous it wasn't out of the ordinary. The ABB got a stronger member. Business as usual."

There were a few nods and shrugs around the room. I was a little left out. I guess I'm the new one to the party, though no one paid me much attention.

"Unfortunately, that has changed. Just a few hours ago fifty of the ABB's own people violently exploded. Bakuda implanted bombs into their heads and set them off for some reason or other."

Skidmark snorted. "Ain't that a good thing? She's blowin' up her own. Let 'em."

"Imbecile," Kaiser said. "Massive casualties like that mean a massive PRT presence."

Coil nodded. "My fears are that the heroes will call in some big names, perhaps even the Triumvariate, to get a handle on the situation. This is bad for all of us. Including _you_ , Faultline."

I didn't see the problem in the big heroes arriving, but for villains _any_ hero presence was probably bad. Even if they were focused on suppressing the ABB it's possible the other gangs would get caught up in it.

"That's not necessary," Faultline responded. "The Triumvariate is bad for my business too. That being said, my best move is to stay neutral."

"I assume payment will change that best move of yours?"

"Naturally."

"Then we'll discuss it later." Coil turned back towards everyone else. "For now, are we in agreement that the ABB must be stopped?"

There was some murmuring between a few of the parties present.

"You're proposing an alliance, then." Kaiser said finally.

"Hold on," said Grue. "There's a lot of reasons that won't work."

Grue wasn't the only one with objections, though his were probably the most justified. Empire Eighty-Eight was a group of white supremacists and Grue was definitely black. That aside there were more political points being made about how letting the Empire grow in the absence of the ABB would make them way too powerful.

On the flip side, there was little benefit to the alternative. Unless they wanted to eat the presence of the Triumvariate it was the only option. Coil pushed for the alliance and through some really complicated terms, it seems there was some sort of agreement.

It was hard to follow. I felt a detachment from the whole thing. I was more surprised at the presence of so many of Brockton Bay's villains in one place having organized discussion.

I never really thought of them as this organized.

"So, what'd you think?" Emily asked after the meeting.

A few people were hanging out, though most were quick to go back to wherever it was they came from. "There's a lot of villains in this city," I said. Between us, the Undersiders, the Travelers, and only two of the Empire's capes, the amount of capes in that room already outnumbered the heroes.

"There are," Emily agreed.

Faultline returned to our group after having a side-bar with Coil. "Coil's paying us twenty grand to remain neutral," Faultline said, "and a hundred to participate in whatever raid they're planning."

She crossed her arms in thought.

This might be a good thing for me. I had done something unforgivable to Dinah, but the ABB were truly horrible people. If we could help take them down and send them to the Birdcage, the city would be that much safer. It wouldn't bring Dinah back from whatever hell she was in, but it would be some sort of redemption.

"When's the raid?" I asked.

Instead of answering me, Faultline glanced at Gregor. He responded with a shrug and Faultline sighed.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "We're staying out of it."


	3. Wingspan 1-3

**Wingspan 1.3**

"Why?" I asked. She was turning down a hundred grand.

"It's not a good job," Faultline replied. She glanced back towards Somer's Rock, but nobody was in earshot. "I loathe to admit it, but the Undersiders are the only team in this city I trust to work with."

I was going to protest, but Faultline held up a finger.

" _With,_ " she clarified. "Not _for._ We'll work _for_ anyone who pays, but working _with_ someone is another matter entirely. A joint operation between the Empire, Merchants, Undersiders, Travelers and Coil is not something we want to get our hands in."

I dug my hands into my pockets. That figures. The one thing I actually looked forward to doing and Faultline was going to have none of it.

"Disappointed?" She asked.

I nodded. "I want to help take down the ABB."

Faultline crossed her arms. "I know why you're feeling that way, but let me remind you of what we would actually be signing up for. Bakuda blew up dozens of her own people, Lung turns into a dragon and will light you on fire, Oni Lee will slit your throat before you notice he's behind you and all three of them will be trying to murder us. Your body can take a bit more punishment than your average person, but do you really want to put it to the test?"

"I'm not afraid to fight."

"You should be."

"That's not what I—" I held onto my arm. Damn it. Faultline wasn't wrong, but I didn't want to admit she was right either.

Even though I had no idea what my powers really were, I knew I had fast healing, super strength and could fly. That was enough to be useful. I had a power set that could actually help people if it wasn't for the whole mastering thing.

 _Wait._

"You're mercenaries," I said.

" _We're_ mercenaries, yes."

"Can't we work for the PRT?"

Spitfire laughed. "Yeah boss," she said. "Let's work for the heroes."

Faultline groaned and spun around to double check if anyone was listening. They weren't, but I hadn't thought about what my words could have meant to an eavesdropper. It was careless of me.

"I don't want to alienate you further, Taylor," Faultline said. "I am not _against_ working for the PRT. But in this specific situation, right here, tonight, it's not a good option. I said before that our work lives and dies on reputation, right?"

"Yeah."

"There is no better way to destroy your reputation than calling the cops on a villain's operations. I would argue our invitation to Somer's Rock is _only_ because we're trusted _not_ to do that."

Spitfire waved to get my attention. "Don't worry, we'll work for them someday. Trust me, it's a lot of fun. You'll love it."

I forced a smile. "Okay."

Faultline put her hand on her hip. "I may have given you the wrong expectation for our work, now that I reflect on it. Most jobs are playing bodyguard for someone with too much money and too much paranoia. We don't go picking fights, we end ones other people start."

 _I thought they were mercenaries._ "I'm incredulous," I said.

Faultline patted me on the shoulder and led the way back to the Palanquin. "I'm not saying we never fight. We just prefer not to."

The Palanquin was open for business, so when we arrived I snuck in the back door. Faultline's dog greeted me with a series of loud barks, but Newter shut him up. Guess he still isn't used to me yet.

I hadn't worked up the courage to go onto the main floor and mingle with the guests, but I was told I was more than welcome. The club's popularity was due in part by the ability to casually chat up a local parahuman over a drink. The guests of the Palanquin were exactly the people who wouldn't mind seeing me sit on a couch in the corner.

I debated trying it, but instead crashed on the couch in the back room.

"Hey," Newter said. "Want to experiment a little?"

I looked up at him. He wasn't tall, but I was sitting down. "Is this where I yell at you for being a pig?"

He laughed. "I mean with your power. You have fast-healing and I can poison people. Want to see how long it takes your body to process it?"

I rolled my head against the sofa and avoided looking at his stupid face. "No thanks."

"Spoil sport. At least come out to the floor with me, if only to clean up. Those inconsiderate assholes leave their trash right on the tables."

He held out his hand to help me up. I groaned and grabbed it. The least I could do for Faultline is help clean up her place, considering what she's done for me.

Newter smirked. I looked at him, then at my hand.

"Oh you fucking... bastard..."

I fell back onto the couch. "Couldn't resist, doll," he said. The room twisted and contorted as my eyes decided not to worry about that whole "sight" thing anymore.

There were no words to describe the feelings that came over me. No words other than _good._ Time lost all meaning. It could have been hours or minutes, but I was beyond caring. All that existed was me, and all that was me was _fucking fantastic._

"H-Holy shit," I gasped. Newter's face popped into my vision as the club swirled around him. The blur slowly became more clear.

"Are you kidding me?" Newter said. "It's only been ten minutes. That's _it?_ "

"Hmm?" I looked at him and laughed. "Man, no wonder girls love you."

Newter swung around and sat down next to me on the couch. Both of us had weird sitting positions because of the extra body parts on our backsides. "Sadly, guys also love me," he said. "Which is a lot more awkward."

I laughed again. The room looked clear, but there was some lingering euphoria. "You have the best power."

He didn't respond, but I was more entranced with the pattern on the carpet than the conversation. It only took a few more minutes after that for Newter's effect to wear off completely. I could hear the bass coming from the main floor again.

"Hey, Newter." I gave him a smile. "Let's go again."

"Now you're talking." He held out his hand and I grasped it, waiting for the toxins to take me again.

After holding his hand for five seconds I was still conscious. "It's not working," I said.

We waited another ten seconds before I let go.

"Damn it."

Newter stared at his hand. "That's never happened to me before. It worked earlier."

"My stupid power no doubt. I wonder if it'd work if I bit you and sucked your blood," I said. About a second later I put my hand to my mouth. "Fuck, I didn't mean to say that. I don't—"

He laughed. "Don't go and ruin it by apologizing. That was beautiful." Newter laid an arm over my shoulder. "You're a lot more attractive when you're not self-loathing, you know."

 _Is that... is that a complement?_ I ran my tongue around the fangs hanging down from my mouth. It would be hard not to self-loath when I looked like this. Not only was I a monster who would kidnap a little girl for my own sake, I also _looked_ like a monster.

"You're just saying that," I told Newter.

"Trust me, there's going to be a ton of guys who will line up to fuck the chick with bat wings and fangs. That's not what I meant though." He snuck his tail out from behind him and wiggled it in front of me. "You're not the only weirdo."

I grabbed his tail. It was rough. "How do you deal with it?"

"Eh, eventually you get used to it. In the meantime, I suggest alcohol. That's how everyone else on the planet deals with their problems. Or if you want to exchange some bodily fluids, my toxins are way more potent in my—ouch!"

I elbowed him in the ribs. Better to drink beer than do _that_ with _him._ I glanced at the beer-filled fridge, but Elle was standing in front of it.

Elle reached in and pulled out a box of blueberries, a bag of peaches, an apple and some bananas. Newter and I watched her diligently cut up the fruit and slide it into a bowl for herself. She put the fruit she didn't use back in the fridge.

"Since when do we have fruit?" I asked. Elle ignored me and took her fruit salad back up to her room. She was the only one who seemed to live in the club proper. Either that, or she lived with Emily. I wasn't sure of the exact situation.

"Get me an apple," Newter said and pushed me off the couch.

When I opened the fridge, it contained nothing but beer. I could have _sworn_ she had put a bunch of fruit back inside. "Uh," I said.

Newter laughed.

I closed the fridge and opened it again. "Wait," I said. "Did Elle just—"

"She does that. I don't get it myself, but anything she wants comes out of that fridge."

While I make sure the fridge was not magical, mostly by opening and closing the door repeatedly, Faultline emerged from her office. It looked like she had something to say, but cut herself off when she caught me slamming the fridge door open and closed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I want Elle's power."

Faultline moved her gaze from me to Newter and groaned. "Can you two idiots follow me into my office for a minute?"

"Sure, boss." Said Newter.

Gregor was already there. It was a little crowded with both of us in there at the same time. My wings took up a lot of room and so did his... girth. Despite how cramped it was, no one dared venture past Faultline's desk.

Faultline twisted the dial on her safe and pulled out a folder. She set it on the desk but didn't immediately open it. "Gregor and I have been talking, and I think I need to discuss something with you Taylor."

I nodded. It sounded serious.

"Allow me to be blunt. You're abnormal."

I scrunched my eyebrow. _How am I supposed to respond to that?_

"It's well-known how people become parahumans," Faultline said. "During a traumatic event, when people's lives are on the line, sometimes they are suddenly granted powers. We call these 'trigger events.' There's a bit more too it, but that's the gist. This is how _everyone_ gets their powers."

"Uh, okay." I didn't know that, but it seemed a little off.

"You, however, did not trigger in such a way." She continued. "The night you triggered, did you experience any actual trauma? From your story it sounds to me like you stalked Emma into a dark ally and attacked her. If anything _she_ should have been the one who triggered."

My expression darkened. "Emma's existence is trauma for me."

Faultline shook her head. "Sorry, it doesn't work like that. There are no straws that break the camel's back. Was bumping into her that night really the worst you've been through?"

I shook my head. Not by a longshot.

"Then if you triggered at all from her, it would have been earlier."

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "So I'm abnormal. Is there a point?"

"Yes, actually. I assume you've noticed the tattoo on Gregor and Newter by now?"

"Yeah," I said.

"All across North America these 'Case Fifty-Threes' have been showing up. Monstrous parahumans that have no memories and a tattoo of a 'C' or omega somewhere on their body. They have been showing up in the worst of places: dumps, alleys, under bridges, without any clue as to who's doing it. This has been going on for the past few years, but a strange trend has shown up. With each passing year the case fifty-threes have been less and less, well, monstrous. The inhuman features more and more subtle."

Faultline opened the folder on her desk and slid two photos across her oak desk. The first was a grainy picture of someone in a coat, and the second was a similar picture of a case with a few vials in it. I could barely make out that omega symbol on them.

"This is a photo of someone calling themselves Dealer. He claims that he can sell powers." Faultline directed my attention to the picture of the vials. "See the omega symbol? Dealer is dead now so it's a dead lead, pardon the pun, but if it's true then there's a terrifying possibility."

I stared at the photo of the C vials. What? That _couldn't_ be real.

"I believe that someone has been experimenting with powers. This omega is a corporate logo and the case fifty-threes are experiments. They've slowly been refining their process, which is why the case fifty-threes have slowly been getting less monsterous."

I put my hand to my mouth. "That can't be real."

Faultline pulled a new photo out from the folder. It was a picture of a half-undressed redhead. On her back was that same tattoo. "This is Shamrock, last spotted in Vegas. It's no stretch as to what she's using her powers to do. She has no monsterous features whatsoever, yet here's that tattoo shared only by case fifty-threes. If my theory is correct, this organization succeeded."

What Faultline was saying was insane. I haven't exactly done any serious research into it, but it was common knowledge nobody really knew how powers worked. And yet someone had started manufacturing them?

"Taylor," Faultline said.

"What?"

"I think you were administered something from one of these vials as well."

 _I was administered—_ wait wait wait. "You think someone _made me_ a cape?"

She nodded. I glanced at Newter and Gregor who seemed to agree with Faultline's assessment. Neither of them looked too shocked at Faultline's theory, so it was probably for my benefit. It was madness. People could _purchase_ superpowers?

And someone _made me a parahuman?_

"Gregor and Newter paid me to investigate this, so we're going to Vegas to pick up Shamrock. She might know something. Are you in?"

My brain was not capable of processing Faultline's words fast enough to come up with a response.

"A vacation will be good for you," Faultline said.

"I just feel—I feel like I'm being jerked around," I said. "You seriously think someone turned me into a cape? And now you want to go to _Vegas?_ I can't deal with all of this."

Faultline nodded. "I understand. Sorry to throw all this at you at once. Come to Vegas with us, clear your head, come back and settle in to a regular routine. Sound good?"

I nodded. There wasn't room for me to refuse, anyway. "I guess."

"Great. You should go to your apartment and rest. The plane leaves tomorrow evening, so be here around six."

Newter walked me out of the club, but instead of walking all the way back home with him I took to the sky and flew back. No one would see me if I flew high enough, but I couldn't enjoy the flight. My mind was running a mile a minute.

 _Someone made me a parahuman. Why would they do that?_ I don't remember wronging anyone in such a way to have them give me superpowers.

 _Unless it was meant as a reward. Superpowers seemed more like a reward than a punishment._ The only thing I could think of was somebody felt sorry for me and thought it would help, but even then there were people more pitiable than me.

There wasn't any other conclusion I could come to as I slipped my key into the lock. Emma was waiting for me inside.

"Master, welcome back!" Emma ran up as soon as I walked through the door and stood before me with her hands in her lap. "Do you want me to draw a bath? Or give you a massage? Or make you dinner?"

I was going to tell her there was nothing to do, but when I looked at my wings I grimaced. In the light of the apartment I could see how filthy they were. "My wings should probably be cleaned," I said.

"I'll draw the bath."

Emma didn't have as much trouble with water as I did. She could turn the bath on and deal with it, but I couldn't even be in the bathroom as it filled up without trembling. We'd modified the pipes so the water didn't rush so fast, but all it really seemed to do was make the bathtub take longer to fill. Honestly I think the plumbing of the entire building made living a pain.

If I lived out on a farm somewhere I wonder how great I would feel.

"Is this okay?" Emma wet a sponge and started wiping the grime off my wing. I extended it over the tub, but my wing was too large and extended out over the floor.

"You can scrub them harder," I said. "They're not too sensitive."

If the browned sponges were any indication my wings were really dirty. Dirtier than I thought they had been. And Emma could scrub them fairly hard without me feeling much.

It took almost an hour for Emma to wash my two wings. I didn't have a proper idea of just how large they were until I watched Emma go through and meticulously clean them. I think they were even cleaner than they were on that very first night. They opened and closed so smoothly now.

I actually felt comfortable with them.

"Thanks, Emma." I opened and closed my wings a few times. "They feel great."

Emma smiled and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

"Clean yourself up as well," I said. "We're catching a plane to Vegas tomorrow, so we should go to bed early."

"Okay." Emma trotted off back to the bathroom. Any normal person would have asked why we're suddenly leaving town to go across the country. The fact she accepted it with no question was another reminder we weren't friends. My old friend Emma Barnes was gone forever, leaving only Emma the slave.

When Emma returned we watched TV late into the night as usual.

"Wait..."

I muted the television. It was hardly a program worthy of mention.

"Is something wrong, master?" Emma had been leaning against my shoulder. Her calling me that was still disconcerting. _She'll answer if I ask, right?_

I looked her in the eye. "Emma, why did you bully me?"

She looked away, avoiding my gaze.

"Answer."

Emma jerked back up to look at me. "I was almost raped," she started. I wasn't sure what I expected the answer to be. I didn't know if there _was_ an answer. But she treated me to a tale of horror, of her near-death experience and her salvation at the hands of the hero known as Shadow Stalker.

Though I knew her better as Sophia Hess.

And the tale Emma weaved continued. Sophia taught her how to be strong. How to be a predator. She insisted the girl known as Taylor Hebert was prey and that I deserved what I got for not standing up for myself. Such were the lectures of the hero Shadow Stalker. The person who poisoned my best friend against me.

Some hero.

"I'm sorry," she finished. Then Emma slid off the couch and got on the ground in front of me, bowing her head to the ground. "I'm so sorry, master."

Even this wasn't heartfelt, not really. She wouldn't be saying that if my ability hadn't taken her. Whatever that ability of mine was, it was making her feel this way. She called me "master" after all, something she would never do normally. But this was probably the best I could hope for.

...and it's still something I wanted. I so desperately wanted.

The clock read four AM. "I think it's time we went to sleep."

Emma quickly sat up. "Wait, please, I'm sorry," she exclaimed. "Please let me brush your teeth, or massage you, or _anything._ Let me serve you, master. Please."

I stared. There were many moments recently that felt like I was living in one huge dream. That none of this could possibly be real. Overnight my daily life had changed so drastically and, lost and confused, I leaped into the arms of Faultline hoping for guidance. And she accepted me, but with every one of these moments I could feel my old life slipping farther and farther away.

The point of no return had long since passed.

"Alright, Emma." I said. "Serve me."

The look of pure joy that came across her face was sick.


	4. Wingspan 1-4

**Wingspan 1.4**

Faultline had scored a ride on some fancy private jet, though it was clear she didn't own it by how unfamiliar with it she was. But by sundown we were in the air, the rest of Faultline's crew considerate enough to keep the windows closed for Emma and me.

I had her play cards with Newter, Gregor and Emily. The exact phrasing I used was, "You can play cards with them if you would like," but I'm fairly certain she took that as an order to go play with them. I could tell the team was still uncomfortable around her.

"Hi." Elle had come down to sit next to me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good today." She reached over and took my hand, holding it in her own. Even on her more lucid days she still had her own pace. I let her inspect my hand and draw figures on it with her finger.

"You're staring at Emma a lot." Elle closed my hand into a fist. "Can I ask?"

I sighed and looked away from the card table. The plane wouldn't land for a few more hours and Elle wouldn't leave that one alone. "She used to be really mean to me," I said. I told Faultline about the bullying but Elle wasn't there for it.

"Why?"

"A hero made her do it. I think she was just afraid."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I thought the heroes were the good guys, but now I just don't know." I opened my hand and held Elle's hand, mostly for my own benefit. "You're a villain, but clearly a nice person. Same with Emily. Yet Shadow Stalker is a horrible person, and a hero."

"Not that easy. No easy categories."

She was right about that, but it wasn't my main concern. The Protectorate is a huge organization worldwide and it's known they try to reform villains. It's actually something they're rightfully proud of, but not every case is a victory. Sophia was a probationary member. I shouldn't dismiss the entire organization because of one bad egg.

...but I couldn't help but wonder. If someone like Sophia could sneak her way into the heroes' ranks, then who else could?

"She's right," Faultline said from over my shoulder. I jolted from the surprise and she laughed a little. "Sorry, didn't think you were surprise-able."

I frowned. "Well, I am."

"I won't tell you how to live your life, Taylor. But I'll tell you this." Faultline looked up at Newter and Gregor. "I've never met anyone whose story I couldn't sympathize with. No one's a monster, not really. I'd wager even the Slaughterhouse Nine could be sympathized with if we knew what turned them to such depravity."

Was she really saying the Slaughterhouse Nine wasn't all that bad?

"Hero and Villain are _not_ organizations," she continued. "There's Empire Eighty-Eight, the ABB, the Protectorate, the PRT, New Wave, the Merchants, the Nine. Those are the real factions at work. Decide which are your allies, which are your enemies, and which you are neutral towards. Oh, and as mercenaries—" Faultline smiled wide. "Don't assume that'll be permanent."

Faultline left Elle and me to go try to shoehorn her way into the card game on the other side of the plane. I guess they were trying to warm up their gambling skills, or something?

"There's lots more," Elle said.

"More what?"

"Sides."

"Ah."

Elle wasn't much of a conversationalist, but she was trying. Neither of us were very good at it and sat in silence until the others came over and swept us up in their nonsense.

The plane landed right on schedule at the Las Vegas airport. Vegas had been hit hard by the advent of parahumans, especially those who could manipulate probabilities and who didn't have reservations about using it. Much like the person we were going to go recruit. Casinos were still around but were not nearly as profitable as they once were. A lot of expenses went into parahuman detection.

According to Faultline, most went underground where they could dispose of cheaters more freely.

"Shamrock's been making herself infamous around here," she said, "so we'll start asking around."

This task was considerably harder than originally anticipated. As we left the airport we realized what today was. The fifth of May, Cinco de Mayo. The festivities were running wild and our car took twice as long as it should have to make it to our hotel.

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?" Newter asked.

"Ugg, I can't believe I forgot about this." Faultline sighed. "It's a great opportunity but I didn't plan for it. And I'm tired from the flight. Let's just get to the hotel."

Faultline booked us two rooms under a pseudonym. The first room was for Newter, Gregor, me and Emma and the second for her, Labyrinth and Spitfire. That way those with civilian identities could actually use them while those of us who didn't... just lived with the fact we didn't.

Newter, Gregor, Emma and I poked around our hotel room when we first arrived. There were two beds and a pull-out mattress. We came up with a quick rotation scheme for who slept where and with whom so no one would be screwed with the pull-out the entire trip.

My body suddenly shook and I fell against the dresser. My wings flapped out and slammed the TV against the wall as I toppled down.

"Fuck, sorry," Newter said. I looked over and tried to hold my arms steady. His hand was on the knob of the sink. "The water pressure is really high."

I took a few deep breaths and held Emma's hand, who was also shivering. _Looks like she's afraid of running water too._ "N-No problem," I said.

Gregor helped the two of us up. "It is strange that you are only effected when exposed directly. The water is still flowing through the pipes."

I shrugged. "Does it? I thought it just sat pressurized until you turned on the faucet."

"In a hotel someone is always using water."

There wasn't any resolution to that mystery, but Newter and Gregor agreed to only turn the tap a little ways to let a trickle of water out.

The next day—or, night, really, since the city didn't come alive until after sundown—we split up to ask around about Shamrock. Faultline said the Vegas Protectorate wouldn't pick me up unless I was causing trouble. Something about a different parahuman culture.

I had a list of casinos to feel out, some of them legal, most of them less-than-legal. Faultline gave me a script to follow and directions on how to fish for information.

"No parahumans," said the casino guard. Even though I was the one with devil wings and long fangs and he was just some guy, _I_ was the one afraid of _him._

"I know. I'm not exactly being subtle about it." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a photo of Shamrock. Faultline had gotten a better head shot of her somehow. "This person is, however. Seen her? She's trying to rob you blind."

The guard took a look at the photo, shrugged, and handed it back. "Nope."

I reached into my pocket, pulled out two fifties and held them in the same hand as the photo. "Well, if you see her give me a call. My number's on the back there."

The guard took the hundred dollars and photo without any hesitation. No one had refused it, but neither did anyone know anything. For being infamous Shamrock wasn't well-known. Or if she was the locals were clever about hiding it.

"It's a big city," Emma offered.

None of the others had any luck either when we met up back in the hotel, nor the next night or the next night. I was getting worried as we sat in Faultline's hotel room but none of the others were nervous. Newter and Faultline were drinking while Emily played one of the hotel video games built into the television.

"You are fidgeting." Gregor said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Nervousness I suppose."

"Just because you cannot see things happening does not mean things are not happening."

I looked at him. When we first met being around him was like being around someone disabled. I wasn't sure whether I should stare or avert my eyes or what. But after a few weeks his presence was as natural as Elle's or Faultline's.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"You gave people the photo and bribe?"

"Yeah."

"Then they are looking for Shamrock just like us. They know we will pay."

"Nets," Elle said suddenly. I had thought she was unconscious. She hadn't been so good the past couple of days, though nobody told me what ailed her. I didn't want to pry and hoped someone would fill me in of their own accord.

But until then I'll live in a world of mystery.

"Stop it," Emily said. She set down the controller and stomped over to Gregor and me. "All you ever talk about is work work work. We're going out tonight, and we're drinking." She poked my chest. "That includes you."

"Woo," Faultline and Newter cheered. I think they may have already had one too many.

"I'm underage."

"No one will say anything. Look at you."

Spitfire then dressed me up in a party dress. Clearly she had been anticipating this because it had already been tailored by Elle to make room for my wings. Subtlety had not been the goal here. The dress was bright red and strapless. The others tidied themselves up too, though Gregor and Elle were going to stay behind.

What surprised me was that Emily and Faultline got in costume. I only found out why when we arrived at the casino. It had a large sign out front saying "Parahumans Welcome. Monitored."

"This is _Presto,_ the only casino that allows capes," Emily explained. "It's also super heavily monitored. Cheating is enforced by the local Protectorate."

"Is there a chance Sham—"

" _Stop,"_ she said. "I said no work tonight. Also it's the first place Faultline hit."

We walked up to the entrance and someone at the gate stopped us. He pointed towards a sign that asked parahumans to register at the front desk before using the facilities. Faultline and the others went over and signed their names with no hesitation. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to write or how discrete I was supposed to be, so I just wrote "Taylor (w/Faultline)."

Even though the casino allowed parahumans, most of the customers were regular people. Newter ended up shoving a sack of chips into my hand and ushered me onto the casino floor. Was no one really going to check my ID or age or anything?

"Here, hold this for you." Emily said quickly and shoved a champagne glass in my hand. It caught me off guard and now I had a drink in my hand. "Relax, Taylor. You're in Las Vegas. What happens here stays here."

"Hmph."

Faultline and Newter found their way over to a Texas Hold'em table while Emily... _damn, I lost sight of her._ With a bag of poker chips and a glass of champagne, I wasn't sure what to do.

There were a lot of games to play.

I sat down at a blackjack table. I already knew the basic rules. You're dealt one card face-down and one face up and the goal is to try to get twenty-one. I watched the table play a few rounds to get the hang of it before sitting down for myself. The dealer smiled.

"First time?"

I nodded and placed the minimum bet down. There were a few others at the table with me, but they didn't say much until after I had lost three games in a row. I went over twice, and the last time I stuck with sixteen which I thought was good enough but the dealer had nineteen. _There's more skill to this than I thought there was._ Plus Aces were really interesting and there was some rule with splitting or some nonsense.

"I wouldn't try anything fancy, doll." The person to my left said. He was a heavyset man. "Best to just bet big when you're close to twenty-one, back off when you're only at eighteen or so. Let all us idiots over here try to fool the dealer."

"Thanks. I guess." I finished off my glass of champagne. It didn't taste good, but it wasn't horrible. Fairly quickly someone walked over and asked if I would like another. Emily would berate me if I didn't, so I took it.

A few drinks later and I found it a little hard to stand. It wasn't like that cliche image of someone falling over themselves, and it wasn't like the room was spinning. I was just a little dizzy. But it felt nice for some reason. I got up from the table after about half an hour and went to find the others.

"Come on, Tay Tay," said Faultline. She was a lot worse off than me. "Help me win my money back."

The table she was at looked intense. "What do you expect me to do?"

"My luck's fffucked so it can't hurt." Faultine showed me her two down cards, and I looked over at the four face up cards on the table. She had the makings of a straight flush if she could get a seven of hearts. "What should I do?"

"Uh, bet high I guess."

Faultline threw a couple of chips down and the game went around, a king of diamonds placed down on the table. Her best here was a pair of tens unless she got that seven.

"Uh, hold?"

Faultline called and was dealt the Ace of Spades. "Fuck you're just as useless," she complained. "How much did you lose?"

"A few hundred. I didn't bet very high."

"I'm out twenty grand."

I coughed. That was the entire payment I got for Dinah's kidnapping. She blew the reason for that entire ordeal in one night? Vegas is a scary place.

I think I'll keep betting low.

Emily laughed as she walked over and hung her arm over me. "We probably shouldn't let her gamble."

If there was any silver lining in all of this, the fact we lost so much cash probably made us a little less suspicious. Emily said she hadn't done much besides play the slots which hadn't won her jack.

"Oh hey, look. It's Leonid."

"Who?"

Emily pointed to someone standing off to the side. He was wearing a black costume with a lion mask. Some cape I've never heard of. Now that he was pointed out I realized we're the only actual capes present. Or if others were they weren't in costume. He was looking at us.

Emily waved, and I decided to wave with her. Why not?

He waved back.

"He's part of the Vegas Protectorate," Emily explained. "I read up before we got here, you know. He can hear everything in some such radius around him, probably makes him great for monitoring places like this."

"So he can hear us?"

He nodded. That answers that.

"Ahh I lost again," Faultline exclaimed.

"So he can also hear our glorious leader losing our hard-earned money," I said. He chuckled.

Emily downed the glass of whatever it was she was drinking and set it on the tray of a passing waitress. I decided enough was enough and convinced Faultline to get away from the table and maybe try to sober herself up a little bit.

We had to hunt around for Newter and found him sitting at a booth with a few girls. One of them was unconscious.

"We're going," I said to him. He nodded and pulled himself up.

"Wow, Fautline looks terrible."

"M-Money..." She grumbled.

I shrugged. "I'm guessing with each dollar she lost she drank herself more and more into oblivion."

Newter nodded as if this was nothing new and followed me back to the hotel. Out of the four of us I was the most sober, though Spitfire still had her wits about her. Faultline collapsed onto her bed without even getting undressed.

"Thanks," I told Spitfire. "That was fun."

She slapped me on the back and bid me goodnight as I went back to my room. Everyone had gone to bed but Emma and I, so we turned the TV on low and watched whatever terrible shows Vegas broadcasted at this hour.

It was difficult being nocturnal, but at least I had someone to share it with. Even if she was a mastered slave.

I woke up some time in the late afternoon and caught up with the rest of my teammates who had already started their days. They hadn't got much done. Faultline complained about her hangover and the rest of her team joined in on her bad mood. It was Saturday, after all, and the team was lethargic.

"What do you guys want for dinner?" Emily asked. The room service menu was open in her lap.

"Can I get breakfast instead?" I asked. "Like eggs or something."

"I can ask. Everyone else?"

Faultline grumbled something that sounded like "burger" while everyone else picked something off the menu. It arrived half an hour later and I even got my eggs with a few strips of bacon. After we ate I asked if anyone was going to go out again and try to actually do what we came here to do.

"Tomorrow."

I sighed and decided to go out anyways. We had already asked around at every casino we could find so I wasn't sure if there was anything left to do. Gregor had said things were happening but it didn't feel like it. At least when I walked around it felt like I was doing something.

Even if I wasn't actually doing anything besides just walking around.

My hand trembled a little. Probably nervousness. I had lost all my pills the night that I became like this, but biting Emma had done more than they ever did.

"Excuse me."

I turned around and saw Leonid half-jogging towards me in costume. Emily said he was a member of the Protectorate. We weren't anything but casino customers last night but now I wasn't so sure. I loosened my wings a little in case he tried to arrest me.

"I'm Leonid of the Vegas Protectorate. I believe we sort-of met last night?" He held out his hand to shake.

"Taylor." I shook his hand. "Did you want something?"

"We've gotten reports of someone matching your description asking around about a female parahuman named Shamrock. I'd like to know your relation to her if you don't mind."

"Ah." I hesitated giving him a response. The truth wasn't that villainous but it still wasn't something that should be told to a member of the Protectorate. Especially a branch of it I had no familiarity with. "My boss wants to talk with her." That was neutral enough, I think.

"Your boss being Faultline, right? Are you part of her crew?"

"Yeah."

The kidnapping was my debut as a cape, though it wasn't official. The papers made the connection that I was the Taylor from Emma's murder and thus my cape persona was born. I was probably in databases and everything by now.

I lowered my stance and prepared to flee, but Leonid held up his hand.

"I'm not here to start anything with you," he said. "Shamrock's been a pain in our side for awhile now. Surprisingly elusive. I was hoping we could exchange information."

"I'd have to ask Faultline."

Leonid held out a business card. "Please do. And tell her this isn't Brockton Bay, we're a lot more willing to play ball."

"Uh, okay." I took the card and stood up straight. It was fancy looking. Embossed and everything. I slid it into my pocket. "Was that all?"

"Officially."

I tilted my head.

"Unofficially, want to go get a drink?"

"Uh." Did he just... ask me out?

"Well?"

 _Did I just get asked out by a hero?_ Back at school being asked out was a pipe dream, not something ever worth considering. Its dismal chance only decreased after the locker incident and all my health problems.

"S-Sorry, I just though I'd never be asked that." I said. I was pretty sure I was blushing. I wasn't sure if I _could_ blush, but if I could, I was definitely doing it now.

"Oh? You were quite charming last night. I do mean just a drink though, I have a patrol starting at nine. There's a nice bar down the street from the PRT office."

I stared at him longer than what was appropriate trying to think of what to do. Was he playing me, or was he actually serious? It easily could have been a ploy to become friendlier with me so he could drag out information about Shamrock. Or maybe it was a trap, and this supposed pub would have PRT agents waiting for me.

 _Stop being paranoid, Taylor._

"Alright."

 _The Blue March_ was a nice little pub. That's the best way to describe it. Contrasted to the sleek and modern look of most of the buildings, the pub was made of wooden logs like a cabin. After the two of us walked in we stepped down a few steps. The entire pub was sunk into the ground. The light was low and a smooth jazz band played in the corner.

"This is really nice." I said.

"It is."

We got a booth and Leonid ordered two glasses of red wine for the both of us. The waiter brought a bottle of something over which Leonid looked at and nodded. Having had my first drink last night I had no idea what made a good bottle or not. TV has taught me that older is better, but there's so many different types and brands.

The waiter opened the bottle for us and skillfully poured two glasses before setting the bottle down on the table and leaving. I sipped the red wine out of the glass, slowly letting it flow over my tongue and down my throat. It didn't taste good in the same way juice or soda did. But there was something about it that was pleasant. Relaxing even, more than the champagne I had back at the casino.

"I think I like this," I said, taking another sip.

"I'm glad you enjoy it." Leonid sipped his own. "If you don't mind, how is it like having wings? It seems like a lot of fun."

"They're really a hassle. Sitting down is awkward." I adjusted my wings to show him how hard it was. That being said, I had found the most comfortable way to fold them. "Flying is _wonderful_ though. I could fly around all night and never get bored."

"I'm jealous."

"How about your power? You can hear everything, right?"

Leonid shrugged. "Useful, yes. Fun, no. And I've learned a lot more than I ever want to know from people who thought they were alone."

I sipped my glass again. It hadn't occurred to me that powers could be seen as disabilities outside of case fifth-threes, but super-hearing sounded terrible. Especially if he can't turn it off. How does he sleep at night?

Compared to that, even with everything wrong with me I can still fly around. And I can heal. There's actually quite a lot I can do _._

"Something on your mind?"

"I think I might be a bit selfish," I admitted. "I hate my power, but it's not all bad. I guess other people might have it a lot worse."

Leonid leaned back against the soft cushion of the booth. "I'm not sad. Like I said I'm happy to be so useful. There's capes I've sincerely pitied for how harsh reality was against them. Powers that have no good sides at all."

"Mmm." I decided not to pry into that.

"Let's lighten the conversation. How do you feel about jazz?"

This really did seem like a date. He didn't ask me anything about Shamrock or my team or what I did in Brockton Bay. Just inconsequential things like what sort of music I liked, or if I had seen some new movie. Eight-fifty rolled around quickly and Leonid brought the date to a close.

"Thanks for the wine," I said.

"Anytime. I'm surprised you like it, to be honest." Lenoid shrugged. "It's hard to get used to the taste at first."

I shrugged and bid him farewell. The egg breakfast had tasted great, so my sense of taste hadn't dulled or anything. _Guess I'm just a red wine person._

I strolled back to the hotel with a smile on my face. Apparently my glee was written across my face because Emily picked up on it as soon as I walked through the door.

"Something good happen?" She asked. She and Faultline were the only people here, watching the news. When I asked where the others were Emily told me not to avoid the question. I sighed.

"Somebody asked me out. We got drinks."

"Really?" Emily hopped around on the couch and faced me. "Details details."

"Ah, it was with Leonid. We went to some pub and had a bottle of red wine before he went off on his patrol."

"A hero?" Emily jumped up and ran towards me, giving me a big hug. "That's so lucky, Taylor. Come on, what did he say? Did you kiss? Are you going out again? Tell me tell me."

"W-Wait, let me go, I'll tell you."

Emily gave me the third degree and was disappointed nothing "saucy" happened between us. I thought that would have been way too fast but Emily said something about "Vegas" and "things moving faster." Suddenly I was self conscious about whether or not I made a good impression.

I didn't even know the guy until twenty-four hours ago. Why am I so embarrassed about it?

"Oh, um. Faultline." I pulled out his card. "He said he was interested in our search for Shamrock. Here's his card—"

"He gave you his number?" Emily interrupted.

"—and he said he would play ball," I finished.

Faultline took the card, read it, and smiled up at me. "Like I said, yesterday's enemies are today's friends. Go get me my mobile. And some Ibuprofen. "

I rummaged through her room to find the phone and meds before handing them over. Emily and I adjourned to the other room while Faultline made the call. She pestered me with more questions about the date which I couldn't answer. Her interrogation was going to go on longer than the actual date. We weren't in that pub for more than an hour.

Faultline waltzed into the bedroom after half an hour. "I know I'll have to say this again when the others come back, but that call was productive. Good work, Taylor. The Vegas PRT is more concerned with getting Shamrock off their streets than putting her away in prison. If we work with them and help capture her, they'll let us recruit her. Considering her other option will be prison I think our odds are good."

"Not if last night is anything to go by," Emily said under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

There wasn't much for me to do since Faultline was the boss. The next few days weren't more than useless gathering intelligence and hoping Shamrock popped her head out of the ground. We were playing the waiting game, though with the PRT's resources on our side it wasn't that long of a wait.

"She's at _Scarab,_ an underground baccarat ring," Faultline explained. "PRT is planning a raid we need to get in on."

We all suited up and piled into a rental van to rush over. When we got close Faultline pulled the car into a side street and parked behind another van. We got out and at the same time two heroes got out of the other one.

I didn't know their names. I didn't know many besides the ones in Brockton Bay and the really famous ones, but they introduced themselves as Satyrical and Floret.

"Leonid is adjacent to the building. He can hear Shamrock still in there," Satyrical said. "Her powers let her manipulate probabilities in some way. It's more than just telekenisis. She wins at card games too. Probably some form of precognition. Our protocol is to keep our distance and hold off on entry until an hour after we secure a perimeter."

"She doesn't seem like a heavy hitter," Faultline said.

Satyrical shook his head. "She's not, but she's slippery. The one time we actually slipped handcuffs on her she unlocked them and ran off. We didn't even get her into the bus. I'm worried she already knows we've got her surrounded and has some escape plan all worked out."

"So use that," I said offhand. Everyone spun and stared. "S-Sorry, did I speak out of turn?"

"We're not that formal, T." Faultline said. "What did you mean, 'use that?'"

"Satyrical said she's a precog, so we should assume she knows what our plan will be. Even if _we_ don't yet. Since we're not here to actually arrest her maybe we should use a lighter touch. Something that, even if she sees it coming, won't scare her off."

"Like what?" Floret asked.

"How about someone just goes and talks to her?"

"Huh," Satyrical said. "Not the type of solution I would expect out of a merc."

I wasn't sure whether or not I should be offended by that remark, though in that same vein I wasn't exactly sure whether or not I was actually a mercenary. They still got on board with my plan. The main concern was who would be the one to approach Shamrock. It had to be someone from Faultline's crew since we were the recruiters.

The problem was Shamrock's location. The baccarat ring wouldn't intentionally let any parahumans in. This cut Newter, Gregor and me right out. And if Faultline or Spitfire went they would have to be in civilian clothes. No masks.

"I'll do it," Faultline said.

She didn't change her mind after a round of "are you sure's" from everybody. The heroes would benefit from seeing her face, though Faultline said she hoped there would be some mutual respect here. Unwritten rules and all that. Satyrical said he wouldn't pursue anything but whether we could trust that was another matter entirely.

Faultline was satisfied. She left with Newter to go prepare and dress in something more fitting for the occasion. That left me and Spitfire alone with the heroes.

"So I know we're here for Shamrock." Something had been nagging me. "But why aren't you guys busting this illegal gambling group?"

"Not our jurisdiction," explained Satyrical. "Unless parahumans are involved."

 _I thought they were._ "Okay, but will you tell the police or whoever?"

He shook his head. "They have enough to deal with in this town. Unless something really serious is going on, like Russian Roulette, they're hands off."

The culture here in Vegas really _was_ different than that in Brockton Bay. The heroes there were always portrayed as larger-than-life who would fight all crime no matter how petty or small. But the Vegas heroes were admitting to me that they let some crime run rampant. They weren't larger-than-life at all.

The heroes in Brockton Bay probably weren't how I thought either. Sophia was a Ward, after all. Our branch must be a lot better at hiding things than Vegas.

"Showtime."

Faultline walked up to the building in a black, skimpy dress holding an attache a little too big for her. Even though she wasn't in costume she walked in such a way to make it hard to see her face. She walked up to the bouncer with confidence and he let her by. She had the right look.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Leonid will monitor the conversation and if your boss says the abort phrase we'll go in. Otherwise it's in her hands."

I wished that I could hear the conversation but I wasn't in a position to be able to do that. With Leonid around there wasn't any reason for Faultline to wear a wire. _I wonder what his maximum range is._

The rest of us could do nothing except wait in a tense silence for Faultline to come through. The cards were stacked in her favor, but would Shamrock take the deal? Or would she slip away to continue her dangerous ways?

"How do you stand the waiting like this?" I asked.

No one had a satisfactory answer.


	5. Interlude (Shamrock)

**Interlude (Shamrock)**

She lined the hundred-dollar bills up in her briefcase. They formed neat little stacks she bundled with green rubber bands, each stack worth ten thousand dollars. Her briefcase could fit four stacks wide, ten stacks long and two stacks high. Eight hundred thousand dollars. But she only filled it up halfway.

She zipped the back of her two-thousand-dollar dress and smoothed out the creases. Subtle makeup on her face, stilettos and two shamrock earrings coupled with her diamond-set gold ring completed the outfit.

Shamrock double checked everything in the mirror before heading out for a night on the Vegas strip. Though her destination wasn't a fancy dinner party or casino. While Vegas was a city of lights where people could forget their troubles and gamble away their money, the real city lied just underneath.

 _Real_ gambling didn't take place in parlors with fancy lights and shows. And only a select few could get into the real gambling halls. That was one reason for the fancy getup. It let Shamrock slip past the bouncers and guards without them giving her a second thought. It's all about confidence. Believing you belong.

In some respect, she did.

The game was already in full swing before she arrived. No one was drinking any fancy champagne here. The drink of choice was whiskey, and those who didn't smoked cigars. Shamrock had a pipe she used but never pulled it out until halfway through. A fake tell.

She exchanged her cash for chips and waited for a seat to open. The attendant gave her a name tag that read "Texas."

A seat opened up at the table after half an hour, some poor sap having lost enough for one night. He wasn't crushed. By the expression on his face his financial stability was still certain. Shamrock pitied his cowardice.

That's not gambling.

"Twenty on the bank," Shamrock said and set down two chips. The game tonight was Baccarat, a game that was a glorified coin toss. The gamblers bet on either the bank or the player to win, and after a few cards were revealed one or the other won. The odds were essentially 50-50.

The player hand won and Shamrock lost her bet, but this was to be expected. She wasn't exactly gambling either. She couldn't blame the other guy.

Shamrock had been stupid when she started doing this. When she first got her abilities it was _so easy_ to take people for their money. But the problem was they caught on quickly that something was not quite right. And with parahumans being common knowledge there was a witch hunt in lovely Las Vegas.

So Shamrock refined her style. One thing she learned was to lose at the start. First impressions stuck around in people's minds. Shamrock stared at where the next hand would be played while the bets were redistributed.

"Twenty on the bank," she said as her bet rolled around. It would be another loss, but she had a plan. Cheating was an art all of its own. Playing people to think she was merely lucky wasn't easy and it wasn't something Shamrock's power afforded her. She had to learn it all on her own.

"Twenty on Player."

Win.

The style of Baccarat played here was unique: there wasn't a house. It was born out of a desire to play the game under real stakes but no large enough organization able to fund it. The idea was simple enough. There was an introduction of a rotating "dealer" who played the role of the house.

And now it was Shamrock's turn.

With five other players on the table, a turn at dealer meant five times the normal stakes. And they weren't even Shamrock's to make. Here was where things got interesting. All eyes were on her.

"You've played here before, Texas."

It was an older gentleman across the table. "I have, Mr. California." Shamrock said. "I remember you."

This part was crucial too. Baccarat was a social game, not a tactically deep one. In Baccarat maintaining connections was key. _Especially_ for a cheater. Coming to the same place repeatedly built up Shamrock's credibility. People who trusted her would ease the suspicions of those who didn't.

"Time to get back some of that money you took from me," he said setting down his whiskey. "I'll bet the cap."

This was the second aspect of dealer-swapping Baccarat. To give a dealer some sort of agency, it was decided that they can impose a betting limit. The only catch was they were forced to that limit until they were dealer again.

Shamrock smiled at the man. "Oh, I won't be setting any."

"Then fifty on player."

With the rest of the bets there was a solid hundred thousand dollars riding on this one. Shamrock didn't bother looking into the future for this one. Sometimes she wanted to feel the rush.

Two-two for player, ten-nine for bank.

"Oh ho, so sorry," Shamrock said. "Better luck next time."

California sighed. "Game's not over yet."

Shamrock used her winnings from California to pay the players who bet on Bank and slid the excess into her pile. And then the dealer moved to her right.

The next round she lost.

It wasn't about always losing either. Shamrock learned that the most natural thing to do was to only win a little. Big wins _always_ made people suspicious while little wins flew under the radar. And that was what it was all about. Flying under the radar.

California was dealer now. "No cap. Come on, Tex. Have some fun."

 _A tie._

Young Shamrock would have given herself away at this point. In Baccarat ties paid out at eight-to-one odds. If she bet all her cash—about three hundred fifty grand at the moment—in theory she could walk away with two-point-eight million.

In reality all she would get is a bullet in the head.

"Sixty on player." The bet didn't matter, they would be pushed back to those who made them. It was an opportunity to seemingly take a risk without actually taking a risk. But at the same time, Shamrock couldn't always make risks on ties.

It was all about playing as naturally as possible.

"Woo, should of bet on the tie," said a voice over Shamrock's shoulder after the hand was completed. She turned to see someone new join the table.

"Only an idiot would ever bet on that," Shamrock replied. "This isn't some B-movie."

"Is that so?"

The woman took a seat to the side and watched the game, waiting for a spot to open up. Shamrock didn't pay her much attention.

Shamrock put fifty on player and a ten-chip on the tie. Might as well make it look like she had irrational, reactionary behavior. Of course, in reality it would be—

"Bank wins."

–a sixty-thousand hit to Shamrock's chips, which still put her net positive. But only barely. A few more go-arounds later and another player bailed out and left. Shamrock clicked her tongue.

"Oregon left after only losing a hundred thousand?" Shamrock said. "That's pathetic."

"Let the man play how he wants," said California. He smirked. "Not everyone can handle this sort of game."

The new woman sat down and placed her chips on the table. She only brought one hundred thousand. Shamrock eyed her up and down, the name tag reading "Montana."

"Texas, eh?" she asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No. Little light on funds though, wouldn't you say?"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Kentucky started the next round, Shamrock betting for a small win. The odds of Baccarat were nearly fifty-fifty, so that sort of average was what to shoot for in case anyone was counting. She was still net positive.

Montana made the same bet as her and looked quite happy with her win.

"Forty cap," said California.

Shamrock pouted. "I thought we were playing a game."

"Maybe you'll understand the strategy when you're older."

She shrugged. "Fine, but there's ways of making you pay." She placed forty on a tie. A win would be a payout of three hundred twenty thousand dollars. Astronomical for a single round of cards.

Not that she'd win. But making California sweat in his boots, if just for a little bit, was worth it. That's what the game was all about.

"Well thanks for the free chips, Texas." He said. Shamrock liked him. If he had lost his cool over this then he wasn't worth her time.

"I'll do that too," Montana said. She put forty on the tie.

Shamrock stared at her. Montana had copied her bet twice in a row now, and an incredibly foolish one at that. Forty thousand was a third of Montana's funds and she bet it on something that only had a one-in-ten chance of happening.

Either Montana was crazy or strangely interested in Shamrock for some reason.

"Player wins," California said. He finished off his glass of whiskey. The second forty-thousand tie bet must have got to him. He could have had to pay half a million on one hand.

But he didn't.

"Aww," Montana said. "I thought you had a strategy."

"I do," Shamrock said. "It's _my_ strategy, and it works for _me._ Not you. So stop copying me."

"Why? You seem like you know what you're doing, I'm kind of new at this."

All kinds of strange characters showed up at the betting table. Baccarat was usually tame but the crazies had a way of making their way everywhere. Mimicking others' strategies wasn't a _terrible_ idea, but it wasn't good to be so obvious about it.

"California just made a hundred thousand, maybe you should copy him instead."

Montana glanced over to the other players. "Naw. You're closer." The woman rested on one arm and looked up at Shamrock. "Plus I think your tattoo is neat."

Shamrock froze. "W-What?" She had to double check her dress. No, it wasn't ripped, and she wasn't showing that tattoo she was forced to get. "What tattoo?"

"You know the one."

The conversation halted as Florida collected bets. Shamrock bet low and lost again, now at a net loss. She'd win the next one, but suddenly her concentration had been forced elsewhere. "I think you have the wrong person."

"That would be a shame. There's this, oh, let's call it a _business_ that I'm recruiting for. We could use someone clever like you. Someone who can see things others can't, if you know what I mean."

Shamrock crossed her arms. "You're the dealer. What's your cap?"

"Oh, whoops. Sorry. Let's go with, uh, twenty?"

While Shamrock bet twenty on the Bank to win, her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't missed the implication. She could _see_ things others can't. Montana clearly thought that Shamrock was a precog. And she wasn't wrong, which was bad.

Except the way she spoke implied she _wasn't_ with the people who forced her to get that tattoo. If she had been, Shamrock wagered she'd already be dead. So who was Montana?

The collective bets left Montana right at about where she was. "Whew," she said.

"And what benefit would there be to me joining your little business, Montana?" Shamrock asked. She then turned towards California. "No cap, as usual."

Without her to copy, Shamrock was free to see what Montana would really bet. As it turned out, a meager ten thousand on Bank. The safest bet possible.

"Not impressed so far," Shamrock said.

"That hurts." Montana lost her small, insignificant bet. "But I can offer you certain protections. There's lots of scary people out there, you know. They could be around every corner."

No one batted an eye at the obvious threat. People at this sort of Baccarat table were used to such subtle threats. Hell, they were used to overt threats with guns and knives present. Though that sort of thing was hardly classy.

The list of people who wanted Shamrock dead ran through her mind. Montana could be talking about any of them—and likely worked for one of them. If Montana truly didn't work for _that_ organization _,_ this was an offer to join a mafia. The Protectorate would never have approached her like this.

But that left quite a few others. Was it that group of Yakuza folks who she played mahjong with? Or the Russians? It was hard to say.

But Shamrock knew she was in trouble. "What makes you think I need protecting?"

The game continued normally, California and Florida in conversation about something or other and Kentucky left counting up the bets. The social aspect of Baccarat worked in Shamrock's favor here. People could talk about anything without being suspicious.

Especially the types who came to this sort of place.

"Oh, I think everyone could use a get-out-of-jail-free card or two," Montana replied.

"A get-out-of—" Shamrock paused and didn't say anything until California started dealing.

After the uninteresting bets, Shamrock took a deep breath.

"Well, maybe I might join this organization of yours then," she said.

"Excellent. Then—"

" _Might."_ Shamrock glanced over at Florida, who had started to collect bets. She bet thirty to win. "I'll join you if you can overtake me in three go-arounds."

Montana eyed Shamrock's pile of chips, which was hovering around four-hundred fifty thousand. To Montana's pitiful eighty, overtaking Shamrock wasn't much of a possibility.

So she said as much.

"Nothing's free," Shamrock commented. "Your turn as dealer. You have until mine to decide to play my game."

Montana set the cap at fifty and raking in an overall profit of around ten thousand, which didn't put her any closer realistically speaking. "You must think me for a fool to make that sort of wager with _you._ "

The way she emphasized that last "you" stung. Shamrock had already decided never to come to this Baccarat table again because of this Montana woman. But that would be fine if there was a job offer on the table.

It was a gamble.

"Will you, or won't you?" Shamrock held the deck in her hand. "No cap, as usual. Make your bet, or leave me alone."

California, instead, placed a fifty thousand dollar bet on player and twenty thousand on a tie. Kentucky and Florida, too, made similar—albeit smaller—bets on the same thing. It was four bets on player and four on ties for various amounts.

It could make or break Shamrock in a single move. But she only smiled. This is what they were all here for. A _gamble_. And with a beautiful gamble blossoming before their very eyes, of course they would play.

Montana wasn't stupid enough to see what could be. "Thirty on... player."

"So be it."

"Then let's see what we have." Shamrock put the cards on the table. "Player eight, three. Uh oh." She smirked and placed the other two down. "Bank two, queen. One to two, huh."

The third card for Player came out as a ten, which offered Player nearly the lowest possible total score: a one. The Bank was already ahead of it, but the third card rules forced Shamrock to draw herself another card. She wasn't assured in her victory until the very end.

"Jack." Shamrock laughed. "Oh my. Two useless third cards, but it looks like I came out a mere one ahead of the rest of you."

She pulled the bets towards her. One hundred sixty thousand, bringing her total to nearly six hundred thousand dollars. And it sent Montana down to a mere sixty. Montana gritted her teeth.

Kentucky took the deck and started shuffling, waiting for people to make their new bets. "Fifty cap," he declared.

Shamrock looked, of course. A bank win. "Fifty on—" Shamrock hesitated. "player."

Montana gave her a look, but then stared at her own chips. Shamrock had let herself got caught up in it. In the rush, in the gamble. In the senseless and joyful grabbing of money. That desire to absolutely crush your opponent.

That desire killed people.

Shamrock could easily win the next four rounds, but she _shouldn't._ If any funny business is detected the game will cease and there would be a whole new group of people after her head.

"Fifty on bank," said Montana.

Shamrock coughed. "Isn't that a little risky?"

"I'm feeling lucky."

Luck had nothing to do with it. Montana brought her total back up and Shamrock's dropped. And next round Shamrock ate a smaller loss while Montana bet another fifty thousand on the winner. Florida's round was uneventful with his low bet cap, and then it was finally Montana's dealership.

"Sixty thousand cap."

"Why cap at all?" Shamrock asked. "I'm still over you by three hundred and it's nearly been an entire go-around. You only have two left to make up the difference."

She put a ten chip on the tie. Montana inhaled as the other bets went by randomly.

But it was a mere bank win. A meager amount of money exchanged hands. Though Shamrock could applaud that way of thinking, if Montana really knew of her power then it was the natural thing to do. A direct hit on her would be devastating and Shamrock could do it with certainty.

Which brought it back to the one round Shamrock couldn't control. "No cap," she said.

The other bets were a bit more spaced out than before, but still totaled seventy thousand before Montana. "Fifty on Player, ten on tie," she said.

Shamrock nodded and revealed the cards. "A natural nine for player. To the bank's... zero."

Montana brought her money up to two hundred thousand, while Shamrock had dwindled to three fifty. Shamrock ate a small loss with Kentucky, and then it came to California's dealership.

"Twenty on tie," Shamrock said. "Thirty on player."

Montana put fifty on player. She hadn't read the situation wrong. Shamrock indeed was going for the win here. But not quite in the way Montana expected.

"It's a..." California looked down after flipping the third card for the player. "Stand-off."

"Oh, did you think you were closing the gap?" Shamrock asked. Montana's arm trembled, but she calmed herself. "That's the sort of game this is. Where values can skyrocket in seconds."

As it came back to Montana's dealership, the standings were her one-fifty to Shamrock's five hundred.

Montana took Shamrock's advice and didn't set a cap, but no one had taken advantage of it. After a boring round it was back to Shamrock's turn. "This is my last time as dealer, you know. No limit. Make it count, because you're trailing by hundreds of thousands."

The others put their bets in, mostly gathering around player. That's what always happened to someone winning a lot—others ganged up. It could destroy someone in a single turn.

Or send them to godhood.

"One hundred on player," Montana said. "And fifty on tie." She put her last chip onto the board.

Shamrock's smile stretched across her face. "A gamble, a real gamble. I love it." She stroked the deck lovingly. "You know what happens if you lose, right?"

"I lose a lot of money, and you lose something a lot worse." Montana said darkly.

"Now now." Shamrock waved her hands. "Let's not resort to threats of violence. We haven't even seen how the game has gone yet."

It was true though. The roles were reversed. If she won and Montana walked out that door, someone would be waiting for Shamrock if she tried to follow. Only by losing this hand could she live to tomorrow.

She placed the cards down on the table.

"Oh my, a seven and a three for player? That adds up to zero, doesn't it?" Shamrock drew slowly from the deck for the bank hand.

The whole table held their breath as Shamrock placed the first card down, a nine. She did it slowly, loving the tension. A game with life and death on the line. "...and a five, for a total of four." She clicked her tongue. "Guess we need the third cards."

She slapped the card side-ways onto the table. The fateful card that both money and blood rode on.

A ten.

The Player hand had zero. The Bank had four.

Shamrock won.

She laughed. "What's that?" She exclaimed. "That brings me to what, seven hundred, eight hundred thousand? To your zero! You lose."

Montana stood up. "Enjoy your life," she said darkly.

"Wait."

Shamrock leaned back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling. The wooden boards had twists and turns of the grain that a lost gambler could easily be taken away by. The whole place was perfect. The smell, the people, the look. Shamrock loved it.

This was where she belonged and she had no doubt it would get her killed one day.

But it was home, and she loved it.

"I'm waiting," Montana said.

"There was something you wanted from me, right?" Shamrock rolled her head over to stare at Montana. "I don't know whose money you just lost, but it's quite a risk to get me on board. Am I worth that much to you? That hundred grand you came in with?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Shamrock sighed. "I'm not the type to go back on a bet. So I'm keeping your money, your pride, and I'm not joining whatever organization you're recruiting for." She picked up a chip and played with it in her hands. "You, on the other hand, I will ally myself with."

"I'm sorry?"

"Someone who can make that bet just now is worthy of my time, and I _know_ you had something to lose. It was in your eyes. But you made that bet anyways, so I'll stay with you. I'll be your friend, ally, whatever it is you want."

Montana grinned. "You seem to be under a misconception. I'm no recruiter, I'm the boss. Allying with _me_ is joining _my_ organization."

Shamrock smiled and gathered up her chips. "A boss who does her own dirty work. I like you even more."

The others protested that Shamrock was leaving right after winning it big—it was rather rude—but Shamrock threw a few chips at each of them and told them to have a good night.

Wealth was fun, but she wasn't in dire need of it anymore. She was always a gambler at heart, and the only reason she used her ability was the pressure of her pursuers. But that wouldn't be an issue anymore.

Shamrock crumpled up the piece of paper that had been burning a hole in her purse and threw it in the garbage. A piece of paper with a stylized C that read, quite simply: "Accept the get-out-of-jail-free card and we'll forget about you."


	6. Wingspan 1-5

**Wingspan 1.5**

I watched Faultline emerge from the Baccarat ring, another woman walking beside her. They had slipped simple masks on their faces as they got close to our alleyway base. Shamrock looked weary of us, but didn't run away.

Faultline pointed at Satyrical and Floret. "You've gotta tell them," she said.

Shamrock put her hand on her hip. "I'm with her now," she said. We were in a random alley so the lighting was poor, but I could still tell Shamrock was attractive. Among a team of monsters and broken people, Shamrock was a diamond in the rough.

Though maybe it was just that dress.

"Good," said Satyrical. He turned to Faultline. "The terms here are simple. Take Shamrock and leave. Everyone's happy."

"And if we have to work in this city again?" Faultline asked.

Satyrical laughed. "If it's not because we hired you, then we'll be enemies regardless. Anyways, our work here is done. Try to leave by the end of the week."

We bid the PRT farewell and got into our own van. Gregor and Newter were up front with the rest of us in the back. Shamrock looked around at all of us. "Quite the group here," she said. "I don't really keep up with any of the cape nonsense. Are you a group I should know about?"

"Naw," said Spitfire. "Just your average parahuman mercenary group."

"Like hell you are." She shifted her glance towards Faultline. "You've got quite the colorful group here, and I don't mean multicultural. You're going to ask me something uncomfortable, aren't you?"

I wondered if Shamrock had used her precognition or was merely perceptive.

"I was going to ease into it," Faultline said. "But yeah. You're the only person with one of those omega tattoos who doesn't have monstrous features."

"It's not an omega, it's a C," Shamrock said.

Even though we were already paying attention, that caught our focus. Faultline raised her brow and Shamrock sighed.

"Hell, you don't know a god damn thing do you?"

"I am quite interested in learning," Faultline said.

Shamrock paused to collect her thoughts and crossed her arms. I glanced towards Newter, who was paying attention to the road, but I knew he was listening in anticipation. Eventually Shamrock told us her story. Even when we arrived at the hotel, no one left the van until she was finished.

The story of Cauldron.

Newter, Gregor and I walked back to our room in silence while the others went to theirs. I didn't know what to say and neither did they. Only one thing was certain.

It was real.

It was _real._ Powers were being experimented with, bought and sold. People could _buy superpowers._ It was as absurd a thought as powers existing in the first place, but it was real. Something about Cauldron made superpowers tangeable. They weren't magical abilities granted to us in our time of need, but actual physical abilities that could be understood.

That hadn't clicked until Shamrock confirmed Cauldron's existence.

None of us could get to sleep. I never went to bed this early anyways, but tonight Emma and I had company. Other than the occasional "holy shit" about what Shamrock told us, nobody said a word. We just watched nonsense on the television.

 _I can't believe all that effort we put into picking up Shamrock actually paid off._

Eventually Newter and Gregor nodded off, and a few hours later Emma and I joined them.

The room was empty when I woke, save Emma, which meant everyone was crammed in the other one. After getting dressed the two of us wandered over. Everyone was hanging out on the beds and chairs eating brunch while watching the TV.

"What's up?" I asked sleepily.

Elle waved her hand. "Bye bye ABB."

 _What?_

Faultline elaborated. "The villain coalition made their move last night. Lung and Bakuda are in jail. Oni Lee is dead." She gave me a look. "So are two Empire capes."

I nodded.

"Shamrock and I tied up her affairs last night after you all went to bed, so we'll head back to Brockton Bay this evening. The plane leaves at seven." She checked her watch. "That gives us six hours of downtime."

Shamrock turned around in her chair. She was eating a breakfast burrito. "I didn't meet _you_ last night," she said to Emma. I wasn't sure how to handle that.

"I'm Emma," she said with a smile.

Faultline gestured to me. "You should tell her," she said. "Shamrock's on our team now. She'll find out quickly enough."

I sighed. "If you say so."

Shamrock smiled. "Oh? I sense something interesting going on."

"Hey Emma," I said.

"Yes, master?"

I spread my hands to display Emma as explanation. All Shamrock did was shrug so I told her what I did in more detail. Her reaction was understandable.

"That's pretty fucked up, Taylor."

"Not like I asked for it." I said.

"Well excuse me, your mind rape ability is all peachy then. What did poor Emma ever do to deserve that?"

I got the urge to slap Shamrock across the face but Faultline grabbed my wrist. She didn't have the strength to actually stop me, but I didn't fight it. "She wasn't innocent," Faultline said. "And unless Taylor decides to tell you _that_ story then you'll drop it. We've got bigger things to worry about."

Shamrock grumbled and shoved her burrito into her mouth.

Faultline let go of my arm and gestured to a styrofoam container. She got me eggs and bacon. It was a nice hotel and I think they did something fancy to the eggs because Emily groaned when I poured ketchup onto them.

But our new member put a damper on the otherwise-successful mission.

Shamrock's new information painted a pretty clear picture: an organization called Cauldron was selling powers. When it didn't work out and the clients became monstrous they were discarded as case fifty-threes. Somebody had _actually_ figured out how humans get powers, but instead of explaining it to the scientific community they were hoarding that knowledge for profit.

Or that's what it seemed, at least. Shamrock had said she wasn't convinced they were in it for the money, but she couldn't speculate on what other motivation there could be.

Faultline muted the TV. "The question is where to go from here," she said. Her question was mostly directed at Gregor. "Are you satisfied with this conclusion to my investigation?"

"I have no memories of before," he said. "It is possible that I was the type of person who would try to purchase powers. Or maybe I was taken off the street to be experimented on. It all makes sense, but I still do not feel at ease."

"Don't get any crazy ideas," Shamrock said. She pointed her burrito at Gregor. "If they found out I told you this they'd fucking kill me and you'd never find the body. Don't mess with them. Don't try to take them down. It's not worth it. I don't even know how I escaped with the sort of horrific fuckers they have in their pocket."

Gregor was uneasy but Shamrock had the most information out of any of us. She had actually been there and met the people. If she was terrified of them it was a good indication they were terrifying. Especially considering she casually tried to swindle _Baccarat_ players out of their money.

"What about me? I asked. Gregor and Faultline gave me questioning looks. "How about you find out what happened to me?" I continued. "It seems connected to all of this."

"I'll dock your pay for expenses," Faultline said.

"That's fine."

"Don't fucking dock mine," Shamrock said.

I watched Gregor. His posture laxed a little bit. I think the continued investigation into Cauldron put his mind at rest. It must have been nice to finally find out what happened, though I suspected it wasn't as lethargic as he hoped.

And there wasn't much hope of getting it reversed either.

"Your case is different than theirs," Faultline said. "Though we can't verify it I suspect Newter and Gregor in their past lives tried to purchase powers and were regretfully discarded once they became monstrous. Once again, sorry for the term. I just don't have a better one."

"It is fine," Gregor said. "Please stop apologizing for it."

"Taylor—at least on the surface—seems to have triggered naturally. But only on the surface. Her case is peculiar in its subtleties as well. Not to bring up painful memories, but you had an incident regarding a locker in January, correct?"

I did.

"After that you were in a hospital for a week and had continuing medical problems that only got worse. Problems that gave doctors headaches, didn't respond to medication and made no sense. Stop me if I get anything wrong, by the way. But you had no idea what was happening and certainly didn't think you had any powers?"

"The idea never even hit me I might be a cape."

Faultline frowned. "Which is odd if the locker was your trigger event. But then, later, on a random night you were overtaken by desire or rage or some emotion and attacked Emma. And you went through a new transformation. This one looks like a proper trigger event. You got wings and powers and who knows what else. Am I right?"

"Yeah."

"The problem with that, as I've said, is there was no direct trauma that night. So, if you triggered, when was it? The locker? Or in early April? If it was the latter than what was really wrong with you those months before and how come it seems to relate to your powers? If the former, what took so long for you to fully form? I don't know of any trigger event happening in this way before and you're the only case fifty-three without a Cauldron tattoo. I'm calling into question whether you naturally triggered at all."

"You said something like that earlier. But I swear I didn't try to purchase powers, and no one experimented on me."

"Are you sure? You were in the hospital for awhile." Faultline furled her brow. "I cannot help but ask what medication they put you on, exactly? And who was your doctor? Because, and this is just baseless speculation, I don't think it would be difficult to slip you something out of one of those vials."

 _Is she saying that one of those doctors did this to me?_ _The locker incident didn't have any repercussions at all? It was all going to the fucking hospital that made me the way I am today?_

"Calm down."

I jolted up and saw Faultline staring. What had my expression looked like just then?

"This is speculation. We'll investigate the hospital, pharmacy and everyone you talked to. That should—"

We were interrupted by Faultline's phone ringing. She apologized and took the call into the hall. After she left Shamrock stole her seat, putting her feet up on the table.

"Why do you think they fucked you specifically?" She asked.

"How on Earth am I supposed to know?"

"Maybe—" Emily cut in. She choked on her words when Shamrock and I spun towards her. "Ah, I mean, well. They experiment with their powers, not just sell them, so maybe you were randomly experimented on. I also think it's unfair Faultline assumed Gregor and Newter tried to buy powers."

I shrugged. "That's not really something to be ashamed of. If I had the money, I probably would have too."

"They tend to abduct people," Shamrock said, "At least from my experience. But it's possible they go out and dose random people too. Or maybe at only a few hospitals. Who the hell knows."

I hit my head on the table. _That's just stupid enough to be the truth._ It wasn't that I was pitied or chosen for some reason. I was just a failed experiment.

"Don't feel bad, master," Emma said. "We'll find out what's—"

" _Quiet!"_

The entire room was silenced.

But it wasn't I who said it. It was Faultline, who had strode back in. The tone she used was so _commanding._ I had never heard her speak like that before. With one word she instantly took control of the room.

No one moved a muscle as she grabbed the remote and unmuted the TV. We all turned to look.

 _"Endbringer sirens are being sounded in the city of Brockton Bay, Massachusetts. Sources speculate that Leviathan will attack within the next few minutes. Brockton Bay is built over an aquifer so a speedy response is critical to prevent major damage to the city."_

No. Not that. Now now.

"All planes are grounded," Faultline said. "We're not going anywhere today, guys."

Dad.

"I need to get back, my dad—!"

"Did you not hear me? We're across the country. No way we'll get there."

I stood up and accidentally knocked my glass of orange juice over. "The heroes _must_ have a way of getting there quickly. Long range teleporters are a thing."

Faultline crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter, you're not going."

"Fuck you," I shouted.

"It's Leviathan. You can't help."

"Watch me." I spun on my feet and reached for my phone. Fuck Faultline, I'll call Lionel and have him take me on whatever method he plans on—

But then an immense fear dropped me to my knees.

I couldn't help but pull myself into the fetal position, unaware of my surroundings. As quickly as it started it ended and I turned towards Faultline. She looked at me sadly, her hand on the knob of the sink.

"It's Leviathan," she repeated, "and you can't stand rushing water."

My entire body was shaking. Emma, too, was stricken with a similar discomfort. I tried to pull myself back up to my feet, but it took two tries. Emily was nice enough to grab my arm and help me up back onto the stool. My orange juice spilled off the counter.

"Sorry," Faultline said.

I stared at my breakfast. This was terrible. Absolutely terrible.

Faultline's crew didn't have a reputation for helping in Endbringer fights, but I understood that. None of them had any useful powers for such an encounter. Mild support at best, cannon fodder at worst. But I was different. I could regenerate, fly, and was strong.

I could be helpful and I was completely willing to help.

But my body wouldn't let me. I shoved my breakfast away.

"For such a stupid reason—" I shouted. "For such a stupid reason."

The room was quiet except for the television. The newscaster described the Endbringer threat, but he was already repeating himself. The public never got information about them until after they were over.

There wasn't anything to do. I laid my head against the counter, orange juice getting into my hair. But I didn't care. Emma tried to clean it up with some paper towels.

"You're pathetic," Shamrock said. She stood over me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Leave me alone."

Then she shoved me off the stool, throwing me onto the ground. "Stand up you coward," she said despite the entire crew getting ready to hold her back. "How can someone looking like you be so clueless? You said you went through a trauma, but you didn't learn jack shit from it."

Shamrock made to come after me again, but Emma leaped out and went for her throat.

Gregor grabbed both of them and prevented anything terrible happening. "Stop it," he said.

"I'll kill her," Emma roared.

"Emma, stop." I said. It calmed her down. "Just go sit against the wall."

She did so without protest.

Shamrock stared at her, then looked back at me. "You've never taken a real risk in your life."

"I've—"

" _No,_ you _haven't._ You've been in danger, but _you_ have not _taken_ a risk. You have simply been _at_ risk." Shamrock glared. "If you had, you'd know. You'd know how it feels when it's your own fault. When everything goes to hell and it's all because of your own doing. That despair of screwing yourself over. The feeling of your blood flowing in reverse. Of walking into the darkness of your own accord."

I formed my hands into fists.

"Didn't you have something to protect?" She asked.

I gritted my teeth. "Fuck you."

" _Didn't you?"_

"What the hell would you know?" I expanded my wings out to their full span, knocking a bunch of stuff off the counter. "Faultline is right, I can't do anything against Leviathan if a _sink_ drops me to my knees."

Shamrock stepped towards me not at all intimidated. "Is that certain? Are you so certain there's no chance at all you can help, that you're willing to ignore your dad?"

"That's—"

"You're a loser, aren't you?" Shamrock slid her hand onto her hip and grinned like Sophia used to. "You don't have the will to win. All you're trying to do is survive. It's pathetic."

I swung my arm to punch her in the face, but she dodged out of the way. The smile was gone from her face, but—

" _Enough_ ," Faultline shouted. Both of us froze. "Taylor, do _not_ attack your own team mates. And Shamrock, don't _provoke_ your team mate into attacking you. Nothing either of you said matters. Neither of you are going to play with Leviathan because I'm ordering you not to."

Faultline turned towards me.

"Some risks are worth taking, even if the odds are low. But at a certain point it's not gambling, it's insanity. You don't bet your life on the roll of a dice." She crossed her arms. "And that is _not_ an analogy, Taylor. The odds of surviving an Endbringer is one in four, even without your weakness to water. For you I'd call it a coin toss."

She actually reached into her pocket and tossed me a coin.

"Flip it if you dare. And keep in mind even if you survive, your dad is probably already in one of the Endbringer shelters. He's as safe as he can be whether you interfere or not."

That was the end of my part of the lecture, because Faultline spun towards Shamrock.

"As for _you_ ," she said. "You were not merely abducted by Cauldron, were you?"

Shamrock clicked her tongue. "A bet may have been involved."

"Which you lost."

"Comes with the territory."

Faultline sighed. "You're worse than I thought. Please do not attempt to convince my team to put their lives in danger."

"Fair enough."

Emily put her hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Taylor. Maybe we can't fight against him, but there's other things we can do. Brockton Bay will need a lot of help to get back on its feet. We can help with that."

"More important anyway," Elle said from the bed.

"Come on," Emily said. She held out her hand. "Let's go for a walk around the hotel. It'll be an hour or so before we hear anything. Faultline will get us a ride back as soon as she can."

I nodded and took Emily's hand.


	7. Wingspan 1-6

**Wingspan 1.6**

By the time we convinced somebody to fly us to Brockton Bay Leviathan was long gone. We couldn't even get a flight there. The closest we could get was Boston and then we had to drive the rest of the way.

In fairness the airport was partly underwater.

The landscape of our city was forever changed. A lake opened up where downtown used to be, the docks were thrashed, the boat graveyard found its wreckages on land and the rest of the city could give Venice a run for its money.

And it was raining. Water by itself I didn't mind as long as it wasn't moving. So the still water that now made up a majority of the city was fine. Didn't bother me. It was the rain that did it.

I held onto my arm to try to stop the shaking, but it was futile.

"This it?" Faultline asked.

I nodded and looked out the window of the Range Rover. Only off-road or 4WD vehicles stood a chance of navigating Brockton Bay for the next few weeks. Luckily Faultline's crew was well-equipped. The house we parked in front of was worn, but stood firm against the attack.

Faultline took me home.

I'd feverishly looked over the casualties list every time it was updated, but never came across the name of my dad. Nor anyone else I knew, though I was only looking for the name Hebert. There was a Herbert that gave me a quick scare, but that was it.

"I'd take your time," Faultline said. "Even if the PRT is still watching this place they won't follow up or arrest you. Not so soon after an Endbringer. To be honest it would be great if they did. The media would rip them to shreds for it."

That put my mind at ease a little but it wasn't the major issue. Neither Faultline nor Emma spoke as I stared at my house, the rain quietly pelting the hood of the SUV. There was a light on in the kitchen and living room. There were also planks over some of the windows and damage to the roof and yard, but overall our house had withstood fairly well.

I mustered up the courage to open the car door and unfolded my umbrella. My bones ached, my muscles trembled and my mouth was dry. I wouldn't have lasted long against Leviathan in his full fury. Faultline had been right.

The walk to my front door was long. Longer than I remember it being.

I took a deep breath and stared at the doorbell before pushing it. I could hear the cute little chime echo through the walls and some shuffling from the kitchen. A few seconds later the door opened.

"Hi dad."

He stared right into my red eyes. Then they drifted to my wings, then back down to the fangs hanging from my mouth before coming back to my eyes. He didn't say a word.

Until he pulled me into a tight hug.

"Taylor."

"D-Dad." I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face into his chest. Dammit. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know what—I just became this and I didn't know what to do so I just— I'm sorry."

I started crying. _Dammit, Faultline is right over there in the car._ I didn't want her to see me like this.

"It's alright, Taylor." He held on tight.

"N-No it's not. I'm a villain. I'm a villain and a monster and what I did to Emma and Dinah and—"

"Shhh. It's not your fault, kiddo."

We didn't move out of the door frame. I just let him hold onto me. For the first time in a month I felt like I'd come home and I didn't want to spoil the moment. We only broke the hug when our arms got tired. He reached out to pull the front door closed before I stopped him.

"Wait. My, ah... well, my ride is still out there..."

"Oh." Dad looked out to the SUV. "Do you want them to come in?"

I timidly nodded. I didn't actually want them to come, but they had to. All I wanted to do was sit with my dad on the couch and do something lame like play Scrabble all night. But I would have no such luck.

I waved at the SUV and gestured for them to come over. Faultline got out of the driver seat and opened an umbrella, escorting Emma out from the back.

"Emma Barnes?" Dad gasped. "But the news said that she died."

"H-Hi Mister Hebert..." She said softly, looking at me. I was wondering what she would refer to him by.

"I'll explain everything, dad." I said. "It's kind of a long story."

Faultline held out her hand towards dad. "Faultline," she said.

"You're the one who's been looking after my daughter."

"Yes. If you're aware the nature of my business I won't be offended if you tell me to leave, but it's wet and cold out here."

Dad took another look at me, then welcomed all of us inside. He cleared up the trash and old dishes around the couch and chairs so we could all sit down. It was a lot messier in here than I remembered.

 _Dad..._

I sat next to him on the couch with Emma next to me. Faultline sat in the opposite chair. I didn't know where to begin but everyone was willing to wait for me to get my bearings.

"I guess I'll just start from that night I went missing," I said.

Describing it had been hard. I tried to lay out exactly what I'd been doing for the past month, from killing Emma to joining Faultline to finding out Emma wasn't really dead to the kidnapping and even Vegas. I had to check with Faultline a few times to make sure I didn't say anything she wanted to keep secret about what we were doing, but all she stopped me on was Cauldron stuff.

Most cape activities were fairly open anyways. I omitted the part about the date and gambling and how I had been drinking underage. None of that seemed terribly relevant. But everything else I said. Dad had sat there listening to me with a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, kiddo." He said at the end. "But is it really okay for you to be here?"

"For a few days," Fautline said. "No one will move to arrest her so soon after Leviathan. But we can't push it."

"Isn't there anything we can do? It was an accident and Emma is fine."

I shook my head. "She's really not fine, dad. She's my... I don't even want to say the word. She's my _slave._ The Protectorate won't let something like me just wander around when I can do that to people."

"But—"

Faultline held up her hand. "I apologize Mr. Hebert, but the cruel reality is that Taylor lost the power roulette. Some parahumans just can't be heroes and are too dangerous to leave alone as rogues. Even if you try to do the right thing and play it fair, one false step and your daughter will go to the Birdcage. I won't stop you, but it's not the smart play."

Dad was dejected. "But that's no reason to resort to things like kidnapping. Just because the heroes think you're a villain doesn't mean you have to be."

I didn't have a response to that. I _hadn't_ wanted to kidnap Dinah. But I was new and Faultline's crew does any job short of assassination. I can't be a part of it without resorting to villainy. There isn't any other option.

"He's right, Taylor." Faultline said. I looked up at her. "The only reason you came to me was because you were lost and desperate. Though it wasn't my intention, you could think of it as me taking advantage of you. If you don't want to be in my crew then you don't have to be. Kidnapping, stealing, espionage. We've done it all and we'll continue doing it all." She stood up. "You have a few days. You should really think over what you want to do."

Faultline then excused herself and went back to wherever she called home, leaving just dad, Emma and me. I looked over at Emma. She sat quietly on the couch with a neutral expression.

"Emma, go to my room and wait for me."

As always, she obeyed without question. I watched her walk up the stairs, head to my room and close the door. I turned back to dad.

"See? That's not something a hero does."

Dad sighed. "I just want you to be happy, kiddo. But tell me honestly. Please. Are you really okay with kidnapping? I saw it all over the papers."

I was silent for awhile. If I wanted to stay with Faultline I would have to be. And yet the answer was obvious. "I'm not."

He smiled. "See? You're a good kid."

I leaned onto his shoulder. "I hope you're right."

"I am."

We spent the night silently watching the rain patter against the windows. It stopped around midnight. Dad said he would stay up with me, but I could tell he was getting tired around two in the morning. Because of the allergic-to-sunlight thing my sleep schedule was nocturnal now, but I was glad he stayed with me on the couch for as long as he did.

I put a blanket over him as he started snoring and turned down the volume on the DVD. It was some old Aleph movie I've already seen a thousand times. But that was alright. Once the credits started rolling I went up to my room. It's been awhile.

Dad left it exactly how I remembered. Everything was right where I had left it that night I went off to night school. A thin layer of dust had collected over everything.

Emma was sitting on the edge of my bed with her hands in her lap. When I entered she smiled and looked at me.

"What have you been up to?" I asked.

"Just waiting."

"That's it?" Dad and I had been hanging out for at least four hours. Had Emma really been sitting here this whole time?

"Yes. I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong, master?"

"N-No." I sighed. "Just feel free to entertain yourself if you want."

"Oh. Thank you." Emma looked down at her hands and I noticed they were shaking.

So were mine. Even after the rain stopped, I couldn't stop that trembling in my hands. It only solidified that my body was inhuman, ill, and nothing the doctors gave me had done anything. The only thing that had made me feel better was—

 _Oh no._

"E-Emma, answer me something."

"Anything."

"For the past few days, have you felt weak? Dry mouth, tremors, toothaches, headaches, aches and pains, anything like that?"

She nodded. "All of them."

Those were the symptoms I had a few months prior and were now resurging. I sighed and slouched down against the wall. Emma looked concerned and dashed over to help. I held her hand as she knelt by me, but it wasn't comforting. Both of us were broken.

My mouth had been dry in Vegas, but I attributed it to the hot weather. Headaches come and go too, as well as random aches.

 _But what if it wasn't the weather?_

My chest got tight. _What if I'm not going to feel better unless I master someone else?_

It could be regular. There may not have been enough evidence to say for certain, but it _could be_. Fate might actually be that cruel to force me to master someone every month, or send me into withdrawl symptoms. Faultline was right.

The _Protectorate_ was probably right. I could never be a hero like this. Even if I only targeted bad guys, the fact I might _have_ to kill them and turn them into slaves would never permit me to be a hero.

And worse, Emma seemed like she was in the same boat.

Fuck me. I stared out my window. The rain had stopped a few hours ago, but I still felt just as awful. All I wanted to do was feel better. To not have to deal with a body that refused to just _be normal._

"Emma, d-do you want to go out?"

"Alright."

She didn't even ask why. Honestly, I wasn't even sure why. I mean, I wasn't really going to find somebody and... do... something... was I?

 _I'm just going to go out and clear my head. Some fresh air might help._

I glanced at the clock. It was around three thirty in the morning. There were only two hours of night left. Emma and I snuck down to the front door and I grabbed the large umbrella leaning against the wall.

 _Sorry dad._

Emma and I left the house, gently closing the door behind us. The dripping of water echoed throughout the night.

"Master, there doesn't seem to be anybody about."

 _There really doesn't._ Early morning right after Leviathan is a bit of a tall order.

I didn't know where I was going. Even if I _was_ going to master somebody, it would have to be a bad person. The only names I had in my mind though were Lung and Bakuda. The two of them had been carted off to jail, but Leviathan had hit literally the next day. So they were released to help fight it.

And naturally they slipped away into the shadows after.

"Looking for someone?"

Emma and I had seen her standing there so it wasn't much of a surprise. Her outfit was black and lavender, and not that we needed it, but she was illuminated by a streetlight. I was amazed the light was still operational.

"You're... I forget."

She sighed. "Tattletale. My name is Tattletale. Thanks for remembering."

"You and Faultline had a thing, right?"

Tattletale coughed. "You make it sound like we dated. It wasn't anything like that, though you could say I have an _intimate_ interest in her affairs. So, how's Shamrock working out?"

"How do you—"

"Thinker, don't try to work out the details. You'll get it wrong." Tattletale grinned. "That being said she isn't very interesting. A precog getting herself an unfair advantage in Vegas? Hardly an original idea. Naw, it's you two who I find a lot more interesting. Taylor Hebert and Emma Barnes. One of you is supposed to be dead, you know. I see you got better."

I lowered my stance. This Tattletale person was clearly itching for a fight or something because there was no way she was provoking us like this for fun.

"Well, actually I kind of am." She smiled as my mouth fell agape. "Thinker, remember? Anyways, some sort of master ability right? Looking for victims?"

"What do you want?" I asked. I saw why Faultline hated this person. _Maybe I should just bite her. She probably deserves it._

"Hmm? Oh, I'm getting what I want just by standing here." She twirled the umbrella she held in her hand, shooting the water off around her. It missed Emma and me but both of us still cringed. "You're the one not getting what you want. Just thought I'd help, you know, one villain to another."

"I'm not dumb enough to think that."

Tattletale reached into her costume and pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket. "My team was going to hit the Merchants and rob them blind tonight, hence my actually being awake at this god awful hour. Skidmark and Squealer. They're pretty bad fucking people, Taylor. Getting kids hooked on meth, peddling drugs, promoting addiction. I have their address here if you want it. Our job will be easier if they are, ah, not able to wake up for our rather loudly-planned theft."

She waved the paper in front of my face. Tempting me.

"Those aren't the only Merchant capes," I said.

"You only need two though, right?" Tattletale kept waving the paper.

I took it. What else could I do? _Somebody_ had to be targeted. The least I could do is chose somebody who deserved it. Rather do it now when I can control myself rather than let loose on an innocent like I did Emma.

 _Right?_

"Glad we can be friends," Tattletale said. "Tell Faulty I said hi."

I looked at the address written on the paper as Tattletale vanished into the shadows. Some old warehouse in the docks.

At a brisk jog Emma and I were there in half an hour. The streets were completely empty. While I was never the one to go out and wander around this late, I knew that there was usually at least _some_ activity in Brockton Bay. But there was nothing.

Especially by the docks, where half the warehouses had already been abandoned before Leviathan. Now? Now the only people that lingered here were drug peddlers.

Fuck me, I was getting excited. Emma and I found Tattletale's warehouse and quietly snuck in through the large open doors. There were no distinctive markings other than the actual address, which was still plastered on the side.

The warehouse had a large open floor which was completely deserted, but there was a smaller room suspended in a corner. A break room if I had to guess. If Skidmark and Squealer were living here, it would be up there.

Neither Emma nor I made a sound as we walked across the scrap-filled floor of the warehouse. Even as we walked up the metal stairs our footsteps barely sounded. Was this another part of my power? Stealth? Or maybe I was very light. I had the ability to fly after all.

I should weigh myself.

"That's gross," Emma whispered. I followed her gaze into the small break room and was forced to agree. Skidmark and Squealer were there naked, lying in some disgusting mattress together. _No one wants to see that._ A glance around the room verified no one else was there.

I took a deep breath and slipped into the room, Emma quick behind me. Skidmark and Squealer didn't stir, drugged up on who knows what. This was too easy.

I pointed at Skidmark and Emma drifted over next to him while I hunched over Squealer.

It was bad form to attack other capes while they slept, but I wasn't going to wake them up just to be noble. "Master," Emma whispered. "Are we going to do what you did to me?"

I stared at Squealer. _Were we?_ My mouth was dry and my fangs ached. The thought of digging them into Squealer's neck appealed to me. I could imagine the taste of her blood running down my throat and I remembered how fantastic I had felt when I did it to Emma.

Emma was waiting for me to respond.

"Do you want to?"

Emma looked down at Skidmark, then back up me. "Will it make me feel better?"

"Yes."

She looked down at Skidmark again. Slowly she leaned down, covered his mouth with her hand and swiftly bit into his neck.

I didn't expect her to act so quickly. Skidmark woke instantly attempting to scream, but only soft muffles escaped his mouth. I followed Emma's lead, not having much choice now, and bit into Squealer. She struggled but couldn't escape my grasp. Squealer's warm blood poured out of her wound down my throat, spilling over the warehouse floor.

The first time I did this I wasn't in my right mind. It had been a dream. Madness had overtaken me.

But this time I was perfectly lucid. How morbid of a thing I was doing right now was perfectly clear.

But the blood pouring down my throat was delicious. It tasted so good and each gulp gave me a burst of energy. It didn't take more than thirty seconds for the two of them to go limp. Emma and I lapped up the rest of the blood before standing, looking over the scene we had caused.

It was a mess.

"Time to leave," I said quietly.

We slipped out of the warehouse without a sound and didn't encounter a single person on the entire walk back to my house. The only stop we made was to wash the blood off in one of the many puddles that had formed in the city.

Emma started laughing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so—so happy." There was a wide smile across her face. "I feel so good. I haven't felt this good in a month."

I, too, felt refreshed. My body felt like mine again. I was in perfect control. Invincible. I could run a thousand miles and not even break a sweat. The shakes and aches had vanished.

But euphoria aside, we had to go back to my house.

We wiped our feet on the mat before going back inside to my room. I wanted to bathe but didn't want to wake Dad so I decided to put it off until the next day.

"Where should I sleep, master?"

"The floor should be fine. I have an extra blanket."

"Okay."

I gave Emma my quilt and a pillow. I never used them anyways. She drifted off to sleep quickly and I stared at her. For the past month she had been my lone follower and, in some respects, my dirty little secret.

Her sleeping face reminded me of the sleepovers we used to have.

Would Squealer come crawling to me as well? Call me master and obey me without question? Probably.

Skidmark would come back too. Would he also be enslaved? And would it be to me, or to _Emma?_ Would Emma and I become a group of four? And next month, would we be eight?

I knew enough math to know how bad that could get. Tomorrow I would need to speak with Faultline about it, but I put it out of my head so I could fall asleep. No solutions ever came from laying in bed. It didn't take long for me to drift off to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of Dad shouting mid-morning.

 _"You can't just barge in here. This is my house!"_

Ugh, what was going on? Had Squealer arrived or something? I wouldn't think she would be so forceful to make him shout like that.

 _"Mr. Hebert, please. Your daughter is a fugitive. If you're harboring her—"_

 _"You can't do this."_

Oh no. That wasn't Squealer, that sounded like the PRT. _What happened to my grace period, Faultline?_

"Emma, wake up." I hissed. She spun around. "Get under the bed, hurry. Don't make a sound."

Without retort Emma rolled under my bed, pulling the quilt and pillow under with her. That was smart of her. I hadn't even thought of that.

There would be time to worry about her possibly being smarter than me later.

 _"Sir, don't make me arrest you."_

I sighed and opened the door to my room, walking down the hallway in full view of the PRT agents.

"Taylor," he exclaimed.

"Don't arrest him," I said to the agent. "He didn't do anything."

I didn't resist as the agent cuffed me with some special type of handcuff and escorted me out into the prison van. There were a few heroes surrounding the house as well as a few media vans. There wouldn't be a point in resisting even if I _could_ escape in the broad daylight.

They got me.


	8. Wingspan 1-7

**Wingspan 1.7**

My cell was quite large. That was nice of the PRT, I guess. They were surprisingly courteous in all of this considering they were arresting me and all. I had told them that I was photosensitive and they held a parasol over me. And they put me into a cell that could accommodate my large wingspan. If I unfolded them completely they just slightly curled forward on either side of the room.

They'd still arrested me though. None of the heroes had spoke to me and it was the uniformed officers who read me my rights and stuff. At least I was smart enough to have the first word out of my mouth be "lawyer."

I was still waiting for him to arrive. It'd been a few hours and _no one_ had come to see me. Guess I just wasn't important enough.

 _Actually, that's probably true._

There was a lot of time to think in here. It was just me, a bed and a shower/bathroom device. Compared to literally every other villain in the city, I was probably one of the most tame. I killed _one_ person. That was the extent of the crimes I committed by myself. Everything else I did was part of Faultline's crew.

 _Well, three now, I guess. But it's not like the PRT knows about Squealer or Skidmark._

Regardless, I didn't come close to the sort of things that ABB or the Empire did to people.

"Ugh."

 _So why am I the one locked in here, while Bakuda and Lung roam free? Hell, what I did to Squealer and Skidmark last night probably made this city safer than the PRT has in months. Two villains are off the streets._

A yellow light turned on and a soft chime echoed. It meant somebody was going to speak to me.

"Miss Hebert, your lawyer is here. You'll be escorted to an interrogation room. Please don't attempt to resist."

I folded my wings to not look intimidating, sat on the cot and put my hands in my lap. They kept telling me not to resist but not once have I ever tried.

The problem was the sunlight. Escaping would be neigh impossible until night fell.

The officer came in and placed me back in cuffs to walk me to the room. I tried to be courteous but he showed me no emotion.

 _If there's anyone not to get mad at it's the uniforms,_ I thought. _They have no power to make decisions. And they chose, even without superpowers, to join an organization to bring peace. I bet they're the most earnestly moral people in this building._

I was brought to a small room that had a single table in it with two chairs. The officer undid my handcuffs and I sat at the other end of the table. It would be foolish to think this room was any less secure than my cell.

My lawyer was already here. "Miss Hebert, I presume?" He asked.

"That's me." I shook his hand.

"I'm Kevin Conway, an old lawyer friend of Alan's. You're friends with his daughter?"

It took me a few moments to connect the names. I didn't have any friends, but once upon a time Emma was a friend, and her dad's name was Alan. _He's a lawyer, isn't he?_ Now that I thought about it I never told dad who it was that bullied me.

So I guess that connection is still alive. Not telling him actually ended up being beneficial. Go figure.

"I was," I said.

"Right." He frowned. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Let's just get into it," I said sitting down across the table from him.

"Of course." He opened a folder. "They should have read the charges to you, but to recap, you've been charged with voluntary manslaughter, kidnapping, false imprisonment and reckless endangerment."

"If I may ask," I said, "why are you helping me?"

"I'm a lawyer."

I almost rolled my eyes. "No, I mean you're a friend of Alan Barnes, right? I'm charged with killing his daughter. Why would he ever want to help me?"

Conway pointed to his folder. "The evidence against you here is pitiful. Alan wants to know what happened to his daughter, not send her friend to prison as a scapegoat. There's trace evidence that puts you in the same alleyway as her." Conway smiled. "And that's it. That's all the evidence the PRT has."

That should have been good news. But it was wasn't _anything_ else? Not, say, the testimony of Shadow Stalker who definitely saw me fleeing the scene and maybe the actual murder itself?

I looked up to see Conway staring at me.

"I'm glad," I said quickly. "I just didn't... I don't know."

Did he really think I didn't do this? I definitely _did_ do this.

"The missing body also caused a lot of questions, but there's no evidence you did that either. While perhaps a storyteller would say you killed her and stole the body, no jury would ever be convinced by such weak evidence."

The thought was sinister. But I still had it. _If I go to trial and get off, double jeopardy will let me get away with Emma's murder._

"The problem is the other stuff," Conway said. "The false imprisonment and reckless endangerment charge. Enough smooth talking can get that second one lowered or dropped entirely, but the false imprisonment. The whole Dinah Alcott fiasco is going to cause you trouble."

No surprise there. That was done quite openly. "What's the difference between false imprisonment and kidnapping?"

"It's not important, just think of them both as kidnapping." Conway adjusted the glasses on his nose. "Before I talk strategy, is there anything else you might have done that could get brought up? Even if you think no one could ever find out."

I thought a moment. "Underage drinking. Underage gambling." _Murder in the first degree of two supervillains._ "I think that's it."

Conway jotted a few things down on a legal pad. "Alright then. The best way to go about this is to say you were pressured into the kidnapping by Faultline's crew and play up how you haven't been violent. At all. This is excellent, actually, because it more easily lets us shut down the manslaughter charge. We'll play you up as someone who was at the wrong place at the wrong time and joined Faultline's crew because you didn't know what else to do."

That wasn't too far off from the truth, actually.

"Our prospects are good," he said. "I'm surprised they brought you in with an offense this weak. I'm looking forward to my numbers going up."

He gave me a thumbs up at that. I smiled meekly.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked.

"You didn't even ask if I did it or not."

"It doesn't matter for your defense, all that matters is what the state can _prove_ you did." Conway folded his arms in his lap. "If you really did do something terrible, and you really need to confess, I'll listen. Better you tell it to me, who will keep my mouth shut, than to someone in the PRT. I can't stress the importance of _not confessing to the PRT_ right now."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Good. So, _is_ there something you want to tell me?"

"No."

"Alright then." Conway stood up and started organizing his things. "The PRT isn't in the habit of letting parahumans out on bail, but I'm sure your father is doing his best to visit you. I don't think they'll make it too difficult for him but I'll keep myself in the loop just in case. The best thing you can do right now is be a model prisoner."

"I will. Thank you Mr. Conway."

He smiled and asked to leave the room. An officer escorted him away before another one escorted me back to my cell.

It was a productive conversation. I'll probably still get jail time, maybe even years of it. But it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

Maybe...

Maybe it will be okay.

If I don't get sent away for life it won't be that bad. Hell, maybe I could join the Wards or something. For real. Live with dad again.

 _No._

 _No, that's just a dream._

The lawyer got me thinking positively, but he doesn't know the full story. Emma isn't dead, she's very much alive. I killed Squealer and Skidmark. There's a high likelihood that my ability is infectious and could become a major threat if left unchecked. Maybe even class S.

Thinking I can be a hero is stupid.

Fuck, I can't even go to prison. If I go to prison then in a month I might start having those symptoms again. And I might end up killing a fellow prisoner and master them. And then they'll see just what of a monster I am and it's off to the Birdcage.

Conway had a good plan, but it's only good because he doesn't know the truth.

I leaned sideways onto my cot. "Fuck," I said aloud.

 _Just leave me alone. All I want to do is live with my dad in our house. How can that possibly be too much to ask for?_

But instead they kept me locked up, checking in on me every hour. It was the most boring thing I'd ever had to sit through. There was literally nothing to do except get lost in my own head.

I fell asleep at some point but I had no concept of time. There were no windows nor clocks. Nothing but a small cot and a shower I couldn't use. It wasn't until halfway through the next day that something finally broke the monotony.

That yellow light again blinked with its little chime. Six seconds later an image appeared on a screen embedded into the wall. I recognized the girl it displayed.

"Hello, I'm Panacea." She said.

"I know," I replied. "I'm Taylor."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor. I was asked to perform a medical checkup on you. I've not been able to cure case fifty-threes like yourself but I can still use my power to help."

"I'm fine."

Panacea nodded. "I'm sure, but you're still entitled to medical care while imprisoned."

"No thank you." The last thing I needed was Panacea discovering everything about my power and telling the heroes. It's the exact thing I've been trying to avoid. _In fact, as a general rule I need to stay as far away from Panacea as possible._

"Very well then." Panacea looked entirely unsurprised at my decision. But before she left someone else came on the screen. It was Armsmaster.

"Miss Hebert, we really must insist you get checked."

My lawyer had told me to be a model prisoner, but this was something I cannot allow. Panacea's ability, if the public was correct, let her fully understand the medical condition of anyone she touched.

Would another doctor be able to tell if I let them examine me? Doubtful, but it would still be a risk.

Maybe it's worth it.

"I'll agree to a physical," I said. "But not from Panacea. No offense, but I don't like you." That wasn't true. I had nothing against Panacea, but it might offer me some credibility. She didn't seem off-put in the slightest. "No tests or needles," I followed up with.

Armsmaster sighed. "Fine. We'd also like to do a psych evaluation."

"Only if my lawyer allows it," I said. "In writing."

He sighed again. "That will have to do."

"When can I see my dad?"

The only response I got was the screen shutting off. That didn't bode well.

It wasn't until the next day that a doctor got around to seeing me. I guess they expected me to agree to Panacea and didn't have an alternate lined up. But the physical was entirely uneventful, albeit humorous. The doctor took my blood pressure, which was fifty over twenty.

Then she took my heart rhythm, which was zero.

She was quite frustrated for the remainder of the tests and I'm fairly certain she was able to draw no conclusions whatsoever except that I shouldn't be alive.

After the exam it was back to my cell.

I didn't know if it would be possible to escape from here. _It's probably not worth trying until after I'm sentenced._ The Birdcage wasn't on the table, so I would only get sent to some average prison I could easily bend the bars of and walk away.

It would be a lot easier than escaping the heavily fortified anti-parahuman defenses the PRT building had in place. Which left me nothing to do but wait. Wait, and wait, and wait.

A few days later I was still waiting. There was enough space in the cell to do some jumping jacks and exercise my body a bit, but other than exercise there wasn't anything to do. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable. Just really really boring.

If I had something to distract myself with it wouldn't be nearly as bad.

The yellow light again.

"Miss Hebert, the psychologist is here to see you."

"Okay."

"We must insist you shower beforehand. You haven't used it once."

"It's too powerful," I said.

The guard did not sound pleased. "Make do. If you don't shower we'll have to _make_ you shower."

Before I could protest or explain the screen shut off. Great. Admittedly I'm sure I smelled pretty bad, but I couldn't tell. I looked at the interface. It was simple enough. A single button turned it on and another one turned it off.

I took a deep breath and pushed the on button while standing off to the side. Water jetted out of the pipes down onto the floor. My entire body tensed and I immediately pushed the off button. I just couldn't do it. My hands and legs were shaking and I didn't even get wet.

 _This is so stupid. I don't understand it. Sitting water is perfectly fine. I can sit in the bath and not be harmed at all. What is so special about moving water that terrifies me?_

The red light on the door flickered and a minute later the door slid open. Standing there were two PRT guards in uniform.

"I told you to shower," said one of the guards.

"I _can't._ " I crossed my arms. "I'm afraid of running water."

"Stop being difficult."

"I'm not—I just can't shower, okay?"

The guard didn't care for my protests and grabbed me by the arm. He wasn't nearly strong enough to move me so I grabbed the post of the cot. Since it was nailed to the ground it was solid enough for me to hold onto.

"Stop resisting." The guard tried and failed to drag me away.

"I told you I don't want to shower," I shouted, tightening my grip on the cot.

The other guard took the butt of his rifle and smashed it against my hand holding onto the post. It hurt, but I kept my grip firm. A few more smashes with no success and I was _really_ tempted to beat the crap out of both of them. I was obviously a lot stronger than them.

 _Just bear it, Taylor,_ I told myself. _Just bear through the bullies, you've done it before. Wait and they'll go away._

"What's going on here?" Armsmaster asked. I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway of the cell.

"She refuses to shower, sir."

He looked at them, then at me. With a sigh he stepped towards us and grabbed the same post I did with one of his gloved hands. He was wearing some sort of power armor. With a single gesture he ripped the cot out of the floor and threw it into the center of the room, me flying with it.

In a quick gesture the other guard hit the on button of the shower, and water poured from the ceiling.

I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could.

A thousand knives stabbed into my back. I curled into the fetal position as my entire body burned. It hurt. It hurt. My entire body was on fire, the water pierced my skin and churned my organs. Spears stabbed through my eyes, I was drowning and suffocating.

"Make it stop make it stop!"

I shouted, screamed, cried, flailed.

It hurt.

It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt please make it stop please make it stop—

All of my senses were overtaken. I couldn't see anything but white, I couldn't hear anything but the rush of a whirlpool. A waterfall. I couldn't control my body. I shook. I tried to hold myself, get a grip, but I couldn't. I couldn't even think. Thoughts left my head.

I just knew it hurt.

It **hurt** it hurt **it hurt** —

—and it stopped. My entire body was shaking and anything that biting Skidmark did for me had been undone in a single moment. My throat hurt. I was tired. I couldn't move.

And I was crying. There were people shouting but I couldn't process what was happening. There was talking. Arguing. I don't really know. I think more people showed up, but I couldn't register any of it properly.

I was afraid. Just afraid. There wasn't anything in particular. It wasn't logical. I was just afraid, that's all it was.

But it crippled me. Faultline was right. Leviathan doesn't have to kill me. I'll die if I ever set foot in the same city as him.

It must have been hours before I came to my senses in any reasonable capacity. By then I was locked back in my cell with no one else inside.

I guess I missed my psychologist appointment.

It was about half an hour later that the yellow light popped on again. I glanced up at the screen as a woman I didn't recognize appeared.

"Excuse me, Miss Hebert. Are you feeling well?"

"I've... I've been better," I said softly. My throat was dry. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry for what happened. My name is Jessica Yamada, a psychologist specializing in parahuman psychiatry. Do you mind if I call you Taylor?"

"No."

"Then Taylor, would you mind if I came in and we had a chat?"

I shook my head and a few minutes later the red light came on and the door opened. Jessica walked in slowly and stood in the corner. Armsmaster accompanied her and looked like he wanted to stay, but Jessica shooed him off. The door slid down and locked us both in.

There wasn't anywhere to sit. The cot was broken in half on the floor and that was the extent of the accommodations. The floor was still a little wet, but it didn't bother Jessica as she sat down. I sat across from her.

"Do you mind telling me what happened?"

I looked down at the floor. "I'm afraid of running water."

"Aquaphobia isn't that uncommon, but if you don't mind, it looked to be a little bit more than just irrational fear."

"It hurt," I said. "When I got wet, it really hurt. A lot. Probably something with this stupid body of mine."

"I see." Jessica wasn't taking any notes. Her hands were in her lap. "I was told that you were a considerate prisoner and didn't cause any problems. Am I right in saying this is the first time you've lost your composure?"

"I guess."

"How long have you been afraid of water?"

"Ever since I got my powers, I think." I said. "It's complicated. Maybe around April, if you want an actual time, though it may have slowly getting worse since January."

"Has it always presented this aggressively?"

I shook my head. "I've just taken baths since then. This is the first time I took a shower like that."

Yamada didn't ask me any other questions. I expected her to try to take a history or something, but instead she tried to calm me down. She asked me questions about how I was feeling, what I wanted, how being in custody was effecting me. Stuff like that.

It was nice.


	9. Wingspan 1-8

**Wingspan 1.8**

My new cell was smaller, but I was given books. It helped with the boredom.

A bucket and sponge helped with the hygiene.

While cape trials were supposedly expedited because of the difficulty and expense of keeping us locked up, mine wasn't scheduled for a month. I guess in bureaucratic time a month is fast. But parahumans didn't get bail so for me a month was a very long time.

Saturdays my dad visited. That was pleasant.

Tuesdays I had appointments with doctor Yamada. That was also pleasant.

The rest of the time was terrible. Especially Thursdays. It was Thursday, the ninth of June, but the only reason I knew that was because I counted. It was the only thing to _do_ in here besides thinking about how to escape.

Not that I was _going_ to escape. There was no reason. Conway said that with the amount of shit he could throw at the PRT after the shower incident, he'd be surprised if I got anything more than probation. But I had to wait until the trial.

"Thursdays suck," I said aloud. It had been two days since I spoke with doctor Yamada last and it'll be another two days until I talk to my dad.

The incident with the shower had been only temporary in terms of my overall health. A night of sleep had made me feel as good as new. But it's been a month and I could feel it again.

I wanted someone.

And that scared me. It scared me that I wanted to bite somebody, suck their blood, feel it spill over my lips and slide down my throat. Not only because it was horrific in itself, but because of the implication.

It wasn't being exposed to rain or running water, it was just time. As time marched on I would want to bite someone again and again and again. Emma would probably feel the same way, as would Squealer and Skidmark.

We covered this in pre-calculus. It was an exponential growth problem. Four people would turn to eight. Eight to sixteen. Sixteen to... it would increase faster and faster. With nothing to distract myself all I could do was think about it. I wanted to bite someone. Over and over again.

While worrying about that, my light shattered. Explosively.

It didn't hurt and I didn't mind the darkness. It just gave me a little jolt. I pressed the button to talk to somebody but it didn't respond. I pressed it a few more times and still nothing happened.

I then realized the screen was also shattered. _That's odd._

They better not blame me for this.

"..."

"Hello?" I asked aloud.

"..."

An hour later and no one fixed my light. _Probably budget cuts or something._

I stared at the door. _No, it wont be unlocked. It couldn't be._ But to be sure I had to try the cell door. I'm not sure if I would actually seize the opportunity. It's not like the building was going to be deserted.

It was still locked.

Right.

And then there was a crash. And an explosion, followed by some gunfire and another few explosions with more crashes. The entire building shook from some of the impacts. I leaned against one of the corners of my cell and prepared myself for whatever was happening.

For the life of me I couldn't guess at the situation. It had to be some sort of attack but the only thing I could do was listen. It definitely sounded like combat. The building shook as if under fire from mortars and bombs.

I heard running coming from the hallway outside and the shearing of metal. Someone cursed and shouted. When I heard a saw cutting through my door I backed up against the opposite wall.

The door was ripped off its hinges and pulled violently out into the hallway. Standing in the smoke and dust of the carnage was a woman wearing a modern gas mask. At her hip was a bandolier of different canisters and grenades.

"A-Are you Bakuda?" I asked.

"Sure am. Nice to finally meet you, master."

 _What?_

Before I could process that statement someone else snuck out from behind her and lunged for me.

"Master," Emma exclaimed and embraced me in a tight hug.

 _What? How the hell did she get here?_

"Master, we gotta go. I'm so glad you're alright." She took my hand and led me out of the cell. I was in too much shock to resist and she pulled me into the hallway. Bakuda followed us out.

"Emma, what did you do?" I asked once I came to my senses. "Is that—that's Bakuda. Bakuda called me _master."_

Emma looked down at her feet. "S-Sorry if I was out of line. I wanted to rescue you, so I—ah—may have bitten her so she'd help?"

"And Skidmark? Squealer?"

She nodded. "They're downstairs. Like I said, we _really_ need to go. I'll explain everything."

Strung on Emma's back was an assault rifle. She grabbed it and held it ready to fire while Bakuda fingered one of her grenades.

 _This is bad,_ I thought. _Really bad._ Emma went and mastered fucking _Bakuda_ of the god damn ABB and now they're storming the PRT.

"You'll need this, master." Emma handed me a gas mask. I didn't ask. I just put it on.

Things were in motion and I had no idea what was going on. It wouldn't help to second-guess Emma right now. If she made it this far it meant a complex plan was formed and executed. For all I knew Faultline was behind this. _The alternative would be Emma went and had an entire adventure all by herself._

"You, stop!" Someone shouted at the end of the hallway. They were in a PRT uniform and held one of those foam gun things.

Emma brought up her rifle and fired with no hesitation. Actual bullets sprayed from the gun and mowed the PRT officer down.

"Emma!"

"Let's keep moving."

"But—!"

"Master, _please._ "

We ran past the dead officer. _Fuck, Emma just killed that guy. Fuck fuck fuck._ Things were spinning way out of control. Any hope of a light trial just went out the window. The crimes that were being committed right now were send-away-to-Birdcage-forever material.

Bakuda kicked open the doorway to the stairwell and threw a grenade inside. White smoke enveloped the room. The mask would protect me from whatever it did, but it also hindered our sight.

Emma and Bakuda ran in without hesitation. I followed them down the stairs.

It was hard to see through the gas but we only went down one floor before exiting the stairwell. I heard gunfire but we burst in anyways.

What I saw was pure chaos.

It was a large open floor with a lot of desks. Office space or something. Except in the middle of the floor a huge hole opened up to the level below. There were cracks in the walls, the ceiling above and the entire floor dipped down. It looked like the PRT building would collapse at any moment.

On the floor below was the lobby. It was deserted except for a giant tank in the center, but instead of a cannon mounted on the front there was a massive drill.

Around it I could see three dead bodies.

"Bakuda, throw another one." Emma said.

Bakuda laughed and reached into her coat, pulling out a canister. She tossed it down onto the bottom floor and it exploded into a huge cloud of white smoke.

A bullet pierced through one of my wings. I spun around to see a PRT officer holding a handgun before he unloaded the rest of his clip into me. I screamed from the pain but remained standing.

Bakuda tossed a grenade that blew him to chunks. It almost made me vomit.

"Are you okay, master?" She asked.

I pulled up my shirt to look at my chest. There were holes in it but I wasn't bleeding. "I'm f-fine, let's go."

"Great. Down there then." Emma pointed to the tank. I assumed that was our ride.

The three of us jumped down the hole and ran to the tank. White smoke still filled the air and I could hear the sounds of bullets clinking off the vehicle's armor.

Squealer sat behind a plastic screen inside.

"I call 'er the Deep Penetrator," she said. "Enter it from the rear."

I'm going to let that one go.

The five of us piled into the vehicle-tinker's digging machine. It wasn't comfortable and when Squealer started up the drill it was insanely loud.

" _Hey, stop!"_

I think that was Miss Militia's voice but it was impossible to tell over the drill. Squealer ignored it and pushed a huge lever forward. The entire machine lurched down, the drill tearing through the floor like cardboard. After plowing through the foundation we hit solid earth but nothing could match up against the drill.

Bakuda threw bombs behind us as we tunneled away, collapsing the tunnel behind us.

After about ten minutes of digging Squealer slowed the vehicle to a crawl and Bakuda stopped tossing bombs. It got a lot quieter. Enough to actually hold a conversation. Which was great because I had a lot to say.

Squealer spoke first.

"The shaking this baby makes won't let us sneak away," she explained. "Hero tinker shit will sense it. We can only move about two miles per hour silently."

"That's fine," I said. "Now be quiet."

Everyone stayed still. Good. Glad to see I'm at least in charge, even if I'm not in control. But it took me a few moments to figure out what to actually say.

"What the fuck is going on?"

 _Is that really the best I could come up with?_

"Emma," I said and turned towards her. "Explain."

"I'm really sorry if I displeased you," she said quickly. "I-I only tried to rescue you. When you were taken away I just—I had to do something. But I didn't know what so I met up with Squeals and Skiddy and we tried to come up with a way to rescue you but, but, we didn't really have the ability to. We needed somebody like Bakuda so we hunted her down and I bit her and so then we hatched this plan. I didn't know what else to do."

I punched Emma in the face as hard as I could. She was thrown against the side of Squealer's machine and crumpled onto the floor. "You should have done _nothing,"_ I shouted.

"S-Sorry—"

"It was fine. Everything was _fine._ " I gripped a handle on the side of the vehicle and the metal bent. Jail wasn't in my future and probation was nothing. I was finally going to have a chance at having my life back. "But you ruined it. You ruined my life _again."_ I kicked Emma in the stomach.

"But F-Faultline said they were hur—hurting you." She started shaking.

I froze. Emma was lying on the floor, trembling, holding her head in her hands. _She heard about the shower thing? And... she thought she had to rescue me._

I stared at everyone else in the vehicle. Squealer the vehicle tinker, Bakuda the bomer and Skidmark the... whatever he did. It was a bona fide villain team. _And the only thing they want is to protect me._

 _They thought I was in danger, so they rescued me._

The past month of being a nice, model prisoner was undone in a single night. In a single hour. My easy case was gone with the lives of those PRT agents who stood in Emma's way. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths rather than hitting her again. There had been a big, shiny door to me living a semi-normal life again and Emma had slammed it shut.

 _No, that was a lie._

My semi-normal life would have been a lie. The only reason I would have walked away clean in that trial is because the PRT didn't know the truth about what I did to people. If they knew Emma was my slave, let alone _three other parahumans,_ I would be done. Kill-list, birdcage-bound done.

I stared at Emma, then to Bakuda, then to Squealer and Skidmark. Then I looked at my own hands. It wasn't their fault. It was mine. Those PRT agents were good, moral, outstanding human beings—probably—and because of me they're dead. These four did that to protect _me._ It was _my_ responsibility.

There was no turning back now. I didn't know what to call them—my slaves? My puppets? That didn't seem right. There was five of us now. Soon that would double to ten. Then to twenty.

They'd thought of this plan. A plan that _worked_. I had treated Emma like a puppet, having her hang around until I needed her to do something for me. I assumed that's what it was like. That she didn't _really_ have actual thoughts. But they had thought of this plan and put it into action.

Puppets couldn't do that. Emma had gone on an entire adventure while I sat in a jail cell.

They weren't slaves or puppets. If they could still think rationally and have thoughts, emotions and could feel pain, they were people. That's what makes people _people,_ right?

 _They're people._

 _They're people that love me._ I shook my head. _More than that. They're enthralled by me, but they're still people._

That was the word that echoed. Enthralled. They were enthralled to the degree they would take extreme risks for my sake. That made them my responsibility. Squealer, Skidmark, Bakuda, Emma and me. We were all people, and I was the matriarch. They weren't mere tools.

The vehicle hummed as we dug through dirt deep below Brockton Bay.

I helped Emma up off the floor back into her chair. I had no clue where to go from here, but I knew I had to go forward. Where I _wanted_ to go was home, but that was out the window. I couldn't go back now. Not ever.

When Faultline learns what it is I really do...

Faultline.

That's where I need to go.

"We should go to the Palanquin," I said.

"Are you sure?" Squealer asked. "Won't the blue boys expect that?"

 _Fuck, probably._ "You're right. Maybe the apartment then? Are you still living there, Emma?"

"Y-Yeah. All of us are."

Five of us crammed into a single apartment would be a tough squeeze, but it would do for the moment. There was so much I had to think about. So much planning to do. I didn't want to do any of it, but I needed a plan just to survive.

"Set course for the apartment then," I told Squealer. "Can you park this thing anywhere subtle?"

"Not really. I don't do subtle."

I sighed. "Wonderful."

There was a compass and a few other devices fixed to the dashboard of the digger that kept Squealer oriented. I left her to it, sitting still while we slowly plowed through the under-city. At the pace we were going it took an hour to reach our destination.

"Best I can do for subtlety, boss," Squealer said.

The digger tore through an already-destroyed sewer line so we weren't causing any new damage. Leviathan had already tore this city up more than we ever could. Squealer spun it around and the back hatch opened up. I stepped out first, my prison sneakers instantly getting soaked in the sewage.

"God dammit."

There was a ladder at the end of the pipe. I had Skidmark go up first to make sure the coast was clear. The rest of us snuck up onto the surface after he signaled us. The apartment was a block away.

"We were hoping to get a larger place," Emma said. "But the city is sort of already under control so there isn't much we could do."

"Don't worry about it," I said. I was woefully out of date on the state of the city. Last I remember the Empire and the ABB were going at it with the rest of the city trying to put a stop to it. That was a month ago.

A lot changes in a month.

That being said, the city didn't look any more repaired than it did the day after Leviathan's attack. My apartment building didn't take the attack well, but it was still standing.

Emma opened the door for me and handed me her key. I took it, mine long gone. I don't even remember where I left it. Probably at my dad's house. Or in Faultline's car?

Doesn't really matter.

There were sleeping bags on the floor and blankets on the couch. The four of them really _were_ crashing here. The entire apartment was also filled with junk. Not wrappers, dirty plates or stuff like that. Good, proper junk _._ Sheets of metal, random gears of different sizes, mechanical devices that look ripped in half and scraps of wood and nails.

Just _junk._

"We're sorry for the mess," Bakuda and Squealer said falling to their knees. "We'll clean it up right away."

Oh, right. Tinkers. "Two tinkers in the same apartment must be rough."

"Sorry," Emma said. "I tried to keep it tidy but it's impossible with those two."

"It's fine, tinker away." I said. I walked over to the kitchen. Bakuda and Squealer still tried to pick up and organize their things anyways so I left them to it. It's been awhile since I've had any decent food.

I found a surprise waiting on the kitchen counter.

"Emma, what is this?" I shouted. She came running in and I pointed to a steel briefcase sitting on the counter.

"Oh, um. Skiddy had it."

The case had the distinctive look of being very important, but it wasn't until I inspected it closer that I saw it. A purple 'C' engraved on the bottom left corner of the lid. There were two locks on the front that were forced open. I slowly opened it.

Inside were four canisters each with the Cauldron C drawn on them. Faultline had mentioned this awhile back. It was the whole reason Shamrock was recruited. These canisters were powers. Powers in a can. I was holding a case containing four superpowers.

I closed the lid.

"Get a phone."

"We don't have any," she said. "Shatterbird destroyed them all."

 _What did she say?_

" _Who_ destroyed them all?"

"Shatterbird. She's one of the Slaughterhouse Nine."

"Emma," I said slowly. "What the hell was Shatterbird of the Slaughterhouse Nine doing in my apartment destroying phones?"

My tone must have scared her because she took a step away from me. "S-S-She wasn't, I-I mean. Ah." She lowered her head. "Shatterbird attacked the whole city. All the glass broke."

"But they're here. The Nine are here in the city."

"Yeah."

Things just kept getting better and better around here. I was officially a villain now, no holds barred. The worst criminals in history were in town. All the phones were broken. Leviathan destroyed everything. And to top it all off there was a briefcase that could change the world sitting on my kitchen counter.

 _One problem at a time, Taylor._ I went back to the living room and sat on the couch. Bakuda stopped organizing and involved herself in screwing something into something else. _Okay, how do I contact Faultline? All the phones are busted._

"Here," Bakuda said. She handed me a metal rectangle. I grabbed it.

"What is it?"

"It's a radio," she said.

I stared at the radio. It looked vaguely like a two-way radio, though it was obviously tinker tech. Even with it I didn't know how to contact Faultline. She used radios like this but I didn't know the frequency.

Should I take the risk and meet her at the Palaquin? Would she even be there? Hell, I didn't even know if they were in town anymore. Her whole crew could have picked up and moved on without me.

"Master," Emma said. "Maybe Faultline will come here? If she heard about your breakout..."

"It's only been an hour or two," I said.

But Emma was right. It would be best to lay low for now rather than rush straight to Faultline and be rash. The smart play is to stay and hide. I shouldn't act on my base desires right now. I have to play it smart.

Otherwise it's the Birdcage.

So I went and made myself that meal. Emma had kept the place stocked with good food, which only highlighted how wrong I was about her. Despite how my ability enthralled her, _she didn't actually need me._ She called me master, but it wasn't like that. The word 'master' implied a dependent relationship.

There was too much to think about. Our TV was busted, as was everything else, so there wasn't much to do except watch Bakuda and Squealer tinker with their junk. Skidmark was in the other room doing I don't know and Emma and I sat on the couch.

Then somebody knocked on the door.

"Squealer, get it." I said. Nobody _should_ recognize her and even if they did they shouldn't care. It's just Squealer.

She pulled herself up off the floor and trotted over to the door, opening it slightly. "H'lo?" She asked.

"I'm looking for a friend," said the voice of Newter.

"Let him in," I said. Squealer opened the door and Newter walked in. Just Newter.

I forgot he lived in this building too.

"Hey stranger, long time no see." He said with a smile. "And you have friends over. I didn't know you had friends."

"Cute," I said.

Newter pushed a button on the walkie-talkie he was holding. "Yeah, she's here, boss." He said.

" _Put her on,"_ said Faultline. He tossed it to me.

"Hi Faultline," I said.

" _What the hell did you do, Taylor? Breaking out of prison is fine, no problem, but the way you did it? People are saying the PRT building is in ruins."_

"It wasn't me, it was Emma."

" _There is no way little Emma could accomplish that."_

"She had help. It's complicated." I stared at everyone in my apartment. It was getting crowded but there was no helping it. "Listen, you should probably come over. There's a lot to talk about."

" _I'll do that."_

Waiting for Faultline was painful. I felt like I broke a vase while dad wasn't home and knew he would scold me when he got back. Except I had broken a lot more than a vase. And Faultline wouldn't forgive me and say she loved me like dad would.

She knocked on my door just shy of half an hour later with Emily in tow. That made eight people in my apartment. It was just a one bedroom. It wasn't made for this sort of thing.

"What the hell is going on?" Faultline asked. "Please don't tell me you're throwing a party right after breaking out of prison."

"I'm not an idiot, Faultline." I said. "It's far worse than that. You know how Emma is sort of my, well, you know?"

"I don't like where this is going," she said.

I pointed to the others. "They're also like that."

Faultline's eyes widened. "Who are they? The state this apartment is in..."

"Squealer, Skidmark and Bakuda."

"Jesus Christ," Emily said.

I nodded. "It seems that, umm, it seems that my ability is regular. Monthly. If I don't bite people then I get really uncomfortable. It hurts, even. And Emma was the same way."

"I hope you understand the implication of what you just said." Faultline crossed her arms. "If you and everyone you master needs to master someone every month then—"

"I know. I know. It's bad, it's really bad, but I don't know what to do." I bit my lip. "There's time. The numbers won't explode for at least a year. But I just want to know if you'll help me. I understand if you throw me out onto the street. I really am a monster."

"Taylor..."

"I _am,_ " I shouted. "I'm a potential S-class threat. In a year, if I'm not stopped I'll have five thousand people under my command. I worked it all out, you know. I had a lot of time in prison. A year after that I'll have sixteen million. _Sixteen million people as my slaves._ And after that, Faultline? I don't even need another year, just give me six more months. Six more months and that's seven billion people."

I was shaking.

"I'm going to cause the end of the world, and it's only going to take two and a half years. I won't even make it to my twentieth birthday."

"That doesn't have to happen," Faultline said.

"The only other option is for me and everyone else I've infected to die."

"Don't be stupid. Emily, tell Taylor she's being stupid."

Emily looked to Faultline, then to me. Suddenly both of us were staring at her and I could see her fidget. I'm sure Faultline was looking for her to back her up but Emily looked like she had something to say.

"I-It's not stupid," she said. "But we should try to heal it. You said there's time, right Taylor?" She looked at me. "There's time before the numbers explode. We can try to heal it."

There was a long silence.

"I'll help you," Emily said quietly.

"You..." I paused. "You didn't sign up for this. Any of you. Don't feel—"

"She's right," Faultline said. "You're one of us, and we're going to help you."


	10. Wingspan End

**Wingspan, End**

"So there's actually something else," I said.

Emily held my hand. She was a really nice person. Not villain material at all. I should ask her for her back story at some point.

"It will be hard to top what you've already said." Faultline grinned. "The world's going to end in two years and it's your fault."

"You say that now, but wait."

I retreated to the kitchen and grabbed the metal briefcase. It was large and heavy but no trouble for me to lift. I brought it out into the living room and set it on the coffee table for all to see. But mostly Faultline.

She froze when she saw it.

"Yeah," I said.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"It is." I opened the case and showed Faultline the four vials inside. The Cauldron logo was clearly visible. "Skidmark had it, before you ask. I don't know where he got it from, but he's in the back room."

"We're going to have quite a long discussion, believe me." She said. "But honestly I'm not sure we can deal with this all right now. There's a far more pressing threat. I assume you've heard?"

"The Nine?"

"Exactly. Your power, Cauldron, all of these things we have to investigate. But before any of that we have to deal with the Nine. There's a shaky alliance right now between the villains and heroes to drive them out." Faultline crossed her arms. "We joined it, of course, but now I'm thinking it might serve us better to leave Brockton Bay."

Leave? That hadn't even... I mean, leave Brockton Bay? But my dad lived here. What if the Nine did something to him?

"You don't look happy," Faultline said. "But think about it. Brockton Bay was attacked by Leviathan. And now the Nine? It was already a dying town and it's being put out of its misery. There's rumors that people are talking to condemn it."

My eyes widened. "They are?"

"They are." Faultline looked towards Squealer and Bakuda. "This is a problem that has to be solved as quickly as possible. Your impending disaster and Cauldron's role in it need to be our top priorities. Working from Brockton Bay is handicapping ourself unnecessarily."

"Frankly," said Emily, "we got bigger things to worry about than Brockton Bay."

I put my face in my hands. "You're right, I know you're right. But I don't want to leave. Everything I care about is here. My dad is here."

"You aren't the only one who feels that way," she said. "The Palanquin is my baby. I love that place. But sometimes we have to move on. It's how we survive. As for your dad, I can have someone pick him up if he's willing."

That was a relief. I knew she was right, but leave? Leave Brockton Bay? I didn't know where we would go or what we would do. I already felt like home was far out of my grasp, but if I left this city I would literally be abandoning it.

To the Nine, no less.

But it was the only option. To survive, as Faultline put it.

"We should leave immediately," she said. "Take only what you need and leave everything else. I'll be waiting in the hall."

I stared at the apartment. It was surreal. Was I really doing this?

I grabbed a duffel bag and thought of what to put in it. First was the stack of cash hidden in the closet. A few pairs of clothing. Some easy-to-eat food from the cupboard. And...

That was it. Everything else was just unneeded.

Faultline was leaning against the wall in the hallway when I left the apartment, a single duffel bag around my shoulder. She nodded. The only thing in _her_ hands was that metal briefcase with the purple 'C.'

"We should leave in groups so we don't attract attention." Faultline looked at me. "Have Squealer, Bakuda and Skidmark go in one group. You, Emma, Spitfire and me in the other. Newter, go get the others. Head to the north end of the boat graveyard. I keep a dinghy there."

He saluted and skittered off. Faultline had Squealer's group go next. We waited five minutes before heading out ourselves.

I didn't know what time it was but it must have been late. It was dark and the moon wasn't out at all. I could see just fine but the others had difficulty. Especially since they didn't bother to use flashlights.

The roads were mostly abandoned.

"We'll have to cut through that alley. The main road's totally underwater." Emily said. She pointed out the alleyway. Through the darkness I could see the distinctive glimmer of water where there used to be a road. If I didn't have such good night vision I would have fallen right into it.

We didn't make it more than a few steps into the alley.

"Sorry, road's closed."

Our little group stopped in our tracks.

I'd never seen their faces. I'd never even read about them in depth. I knew what anyone else knew, sure, but it's not like I thought I would recognize them. And maybe had they not been on my mind I never would have thought of it.

But there wasn't anyone else that could possibly be standing there. A middle-aged man and a little girl? Definitely not father and daughter.

"Fuck," I let out.

"No," Emily said. "This isn't fair. Death shouldn't be around every corner."

Faultline didn't move a muscle but I saw her fingers tighten around the case. Right now she was holding a venerable nuke while Jack Slash and Bonesaw were yards away.

"None of us are your candidates," Faultline said. I had no idea what she meant.

Jack looked amused. "That's not the game anymore though, is it? You must be aware."

A selfish thought ran through my head. _It wouldn't be hard for me to escape._ Jack and Bonesaw wouldn't be able to pursue me into the air. If the other Nine were around then the situation would be different. But they're nowhere to be seen.

Which means they're probably nearby.

"Let me ask, do you have some business with me or is this mere coincidence? In either case I am amenable to talking." Faultline said.

Emily sepped back next to me. The movement didn't go unnoticed but the Nine did nothing to stop her. Instead Jack opened his mouth.

"Purely coincidence I assure you." He spread his arms. "But there is no reason not to take advantage of opportunities that fall into your lap. Surely a mercenary agrees with me."

"Unfortunately."

A loud crack echoed before a quite visible one ran down the alleyway and buildings on either side. There was a lurch as the ground below Jack and Bonesaw dropped a few feet and ours rose. Spitfire immediately spewed fire in front of us and then turned tail to run. I extended my wings to fly away.

"Arg!"

A sharp pain hit my wings as soon as I tried to flap them. Bonesaw rushed towards me with a wide smile on her face and stuck a syringe into my neck.

Everything went blurry before I lost my vision. And soon after, my consciousness.


	11. Interlude (Clockblocker)

**Interlude (Clockblocker)**

"Wow." Clockblocker stared into the huge, gaping hole that used to be the lobby of the PRT office. "I guess if you can't sneak out of the PRT you can always do _that._ "

Vista stared down into the hole with him. "Crazy."

"Yeah. Uh, you first."

"Not a chance."

The two of them stared at the carnage that used to be their place of work. A huge hole extended down into the earth, but as far as they could see it led only to blackness. Rather than jump in he and Vista decided to write it off as a successful escape attempt.

Their efforts were _clearly_ more valuable staying here and holding down the fort. Not that the fort was much of a fort. It was rather like a house made of cards. A brisk breeze might blow it over.

"Kinda strange though, Clocks." Vista said as they left the wreckage. She scratched her chin. "The group that broke her out. The Merchants and Bakuda, right?"

Clockblocker shrugged. "Who knows. Probably some coalition of unlanded villains. The Undersiders and Travelers own everything now. I wouldn't be surprised to see even the remants of the Empire join up with somebody."

Vista stared at the PRT building. The two of them made it outside and were waiting for someone with more authority to show up. "Sure," she said. "But then why would they rescue Wingspan?"

"You call her Wingspan?"

"I came up with it, I like it."

Clockblocker smiled. He was pretty sure Taylor hadn't even heard the name that was on her file. It was a formality at best, but Vista liked naming things if she could.

"Didn't she _attack_ the merchants?" Vista asked. "That's why we arrested her in the first place."

"The intel was probably bad," Clockblocker said. "Wouldn't be the first time. My guess is she visited them for an alliance, it got a little heated and our witness thought it was a cape battle, but then realized her mistake and retracted her statement." He laughed. "And naturally we arrested Taylor before verifying anything."

It was a cold night for June. Their costumes weren't made for cold weather since they moved around a lot, but right now it was hard. Vista shivered.

If he had a coat to give her Clockblocker would have loved to play the gentleman, but his outfit was no better than hers. Luckily they didn't have to wait long before Miss Militia arrived. Finally someone who could take charge.

"What's going on here?" she asked.

"PRT's busted," Clockblocker said.

"What he means," Vista said with a roll of her eyes, "is that a group of villains broke out Wingspan. We think it was Squealer and Bakuda. And probably Skidmark? There was someone else but we don't know who that was."

"They did a real number on the place," Clockblocker said. "Bakuda outdid herself and they had something of Squealer's making. It tunneled right up through the ground and escaped the same way."

"Casualties?" Miss Militia asked.

Clockblocker shrugged. "I don't know. Some. The uniforms are handling all that stuff. I don't know who's in charge there. Vista and I aren't sure what to do, but Taylor got away."

"Just to confirm," Miss Militia said. "You said Squealer, Skidmark and Bakuda did this? _Not_ the Slaughterhouse Nine."

"Nope, just our local villains causing trouble as usual."

"We did _not_ need this right now."

Clockblocker didn't say it but he was pretty sure that was exactly the reason it had taken place. Scatterbird's little show had blown up all the glass in the city. That didn't just mean windows. It meant phones, security cameras and computers. Even things like compasses, watches and _glasses_ were broken.

The city was in complete and utter chaos.

Because of it the heroes were out patrolling in full force, which left their home base woefully unprotected. A perfect jailbreak opportunity if there was already a plan in place.

While he thought all this, standing there, he didn't say any of it. Not to keep it to himself for any reason, but it wouldn't be helpful to say. When they had a meeting about this event in a day or two he'd spout his theories then.

If anyone cared to listen.

"So much for operation 'make Taylor a probationary ward,' huh?" He asked. Miss Militia ignored him.

Clockblocker thought the plan had been a little heavy-handed, but otherwise looked forward to being on a team with Taylor. No one had included him in the loop, but he heard things. They were going to approach Taylor with a plea deal a day before the trial asking her to be a Ward. Six months of probationary status—less than Sophia even had—and everything she did under Faultline would be forgiven.

But now it was too late. The battle lines had been drawn.

"Should we try to look for her?" Vista asked. "Or still focus on helping people after the glass attack? Or look for the Nine?"

Miss Militia didn't know what to do. The damage at the PRT building had already been done. There were no bad guys for them to stop. "Go back to your assignments," she finally decided. "Miss Hebert's escape is unfortunate—not to mention perplexing—but not on our list of priorities tonight."

The two of them nodded and went back on their patrol. With Vista's ability they were back where they were supposed to be in no time, patrolling around Tattletale's territory. Clockblocker liked this assignment since Tattletale had a habit of finding them and striking up a conversation. It was amusing.

Vista hated it for the same exact reason.

"She's just so arrogant," she complained. "It pisses me off."

Clockblocker laughed. "I'd rather be insulted than be attacked."

Though tonight she didn't show. Given what had happened over the past few hours that wasn't surprising. There was plenty else to do on their patrol. People were injured and hurt all over the place. The local police, fire departments and hospitals set up roaming stations to help. Most of their night was spent finding people in need and escorting them to an ambulance.

They heard a crash in a nearby corner store. Vista and Clockblocker rushed towards it and opened the door. It should have been locked, but the glass in the door was completely broken. If there was a security system it had also been shattered.

The more he thought about it, Shatterbird was a really dangerous enemy.

"Hello?" Clockblocker asked. The store was entirely black, but at his shout he heard something fall to the floor and a soft curse.

Vista got them close with her power in a second, easily slipping by a knocked-over shelf.

"Do you need help?" Vista asked.

"N-No, I'm fine," said a girl. "It's just dark."

She flicked a lighter in her hands and a small spot of light illuminated her face. She was about Clockblocker's age, but her hair was a mess and her clothes had rips in them. The color drained from her face when she saw who she was standing with.

"Ah, you're—"

"Yes, we're the Wards. What are you doing here?"

Clockblocker looked at her hand not holding the lighter. She had a bottle of medicine or cough syrup or something. She also had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Nothing. Just trying to hide," she said.

"You're stealing," Clockblocker said. "Looting."

"No," she said. "I'm not looting."

Clockblocker grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull away but wasn't strong enough and the bottle in her hand fell to the ground. She tried to shove the lighter into his face but Vista grabbed it.

"Yeowch," she exclaimed. The flame burned her finger but she managed to keep her grip on it. When it was in her grasp she flipped it back on.

"Let me go," the girl yelled. She struggled and the bag fell down her shoulder. The strap slid down and Clockblocker decided to take the bag instead. But the girl didn't leave. "Please give that back," she said.

"No, you're stealing it."

"I _need_ it."

"Let's see, then." Clockblocker unzipped the bag. Inside it were bandages, medications and pills. A few bottles of Ibuprofen, some rubbing alcohol, swabs, and more things like that.

He suddenly felt bad.

"It's my brother," she said. "He was using our computer when all the glass broke. Please."

Clockblocker looked at Vista, who was having as much a moral quandary as he was. Was it "looting" to steal things you needed to survive? Medicine, food, and blankets?

"What's your name?" Vista asked.

"Why, so you can turn me in?"

"We're trying to help," she said. "Let us take you back home. We can bring the bag."

The girl looked troubled, but with two heroes standing in her way she didn't have a choice. She slowly nodded. "Fine," she said. "We're down on Crescent drive."

Clockblocker grabbed the bag of supplies and let Vista lead the way. With her ability they managed to leave the store without bumping into anything and quickly walked down the blocks to the girl's house.

"I never did get your name," Vista said.

She sighed. "It's Madison."

"That's a pretty name."

"Thanks."

Despite Madison's house being ten blocks away they were there in two minutes. Just one of the many reasons Clockblocker loved patrolling with Vista. She also wasn't a bitch like Shadow Stalker or stuck up like everyone else in the Wards.

"That was fast," Madison said.

"That's what I'm here for," Vista said. She smiled at Madison and handed over the lighter. Clockblocker tossed over the bag.

"Take care of your family," he said.

"I am." Madison replied. She went home and left the two heroes on the street without even a thank you.

But they were too busy to dwell on it. There were thousands of people in this city that needed help. They had _already_ needed help after Leviathan, and now they needed it even more.

Clockblocker didn't want to think about it but it felt like their city was falling apart. It was run by criminals, the worst group in the entire world was playing with the lives of its citizens and even the infrastructure was falling to pieces.

"I really hope we can make it through all this," he said.

Vista agreed.


	12. Transistor 2-1

**Transistor 2.1**

I fiddled with the cut-out newspaper clipping. _Eight PRT agents killed in prison break. Supervillain Taylor Hebert escapes custody._ Three days ago this article brought my month of respite to an abrupt and bitter end. I could tell myself the probability Taylor would actually bother with me was negligible, but it didn't matter.

Sometimes you knew something was coming.

" _Mads? You there?"_

"Ah-uh, yeah. Sorry. I can't believe they're making us go to summer school," I said into the phone. Sophia had managed to get me another phone after the Shatterbird thing. It was nothing special. A little flip phone. "I'm not ready for that."

" _Don't tell me you're traumatized, Mads. Big bad city scaring you?"_

"Ass. I meant my clothes and makeup." I set the article face-down on my desk as if that would help me forget about her. I ran my fingers down the curls of my blouse, feeling all the parts where they had ripped off. "They're shipping us off to Arcadia and I can't afford anything. I'm going to look like the poor kid."

 _"You_ are _the poor kid. What happened to all that looting you told me you were gunna do? Didn't hit any clothing stores?"_

"It was cut short. Damn heroes."

" _Tell me about it. Bunch of bastards. Anyways, you won't be the only poor one. Your clothes don't matter, just don't let anyone fuck with you."_

I rolled over on my bed and played with one of the knitting needles laying on the bed stand. "I'm too short to be intimidating."

 _"Can't argue with that. Shorty."_

Stupid Endbringers. A drop of water hit me on my forehead.

"Ahh dammit hell damn." I shouted and spun off my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 _"Sup?"_

"My stupid ceiling is leaking in another spot. Hold on, I'm going to go get another bucket or something."

I put the phone down on the desk and went into the kitchen. We had already used quite a few buckets, pots and pans to collect water from the other leaks all over the house. Whether or not there were any left was a real question. After rooting around in the closet for a few minutes I found a large jar.

It would have to do.

The leak came from over my bed so I had to drag my bed out of the way first. There was another bucket in the center of my room so the bed ended up being turned at a weird angle. It wasn't even against the wall anymore.

Stupid Endbringers.

"That'll have to do," I said placing the jar down. The water echoed as it dripped into it.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen."

I spun at her voice. She stood in my doorway with her two massive black wings. Her eyes glowed red, two long fangs jutted from her mouth and her voice was unmistakable. The temperature of the room dropped ten degrees.

"Taylor?"

She smiled, baring her fangs. "Hello Madison."

She didn't look at all like the girl I had known from Winslow. Her hair wasn't a complete mess and she was wearing a tight outfit that showed off her curves. Even if you took away the fangs, eyes and wing accessories it still wouldn't have looked like her.

If there was any positive lining to this situation, it was that my anxiety was not unfounded. I inched towards the head of my bed as Taylor stepped to the side to let someone past.

"Hi Madi!"

What.

 _What._

"Emma?"

Emma waved to me. _Dead_ Emma waved to me. Definitely-one-hundred-percent-dead Emma waved to me.

What.

"Emma, go find me a towel or something," Taylor said. Emma then nodded and scurried off towards our bathroom. The number of things that made no sense were piling up by the truckload.

"Where are my parents?" I asked. "Where's my little brother?"

"Unharmed. For now. They won't be bothering us." Taylor licked her lips and took a step forward. I tensed up and my eyes darted towards the cell phone. It sat innocently on my dresser, still connected to Sophia. _She better be listening and calling the cops._

"What do you want?" I asked.

"So now you care about what I _want_? You can probably guess."

"Yeah." I took a step back. "But I was really hoping there was another reason."

Taylor's mini-career as a cape hadn't gone by unnoticed by the public, though I focused on it a bit more than the rest. Her abilities were unclear but she could easily take me in a fight. I was powerless and she had every reason to come after me.

I stopped myself from looking at my cell phone again so I didn't tip Taylor off. My best bet was to stall and wait for help. Sophia would call somebody. She had to.

"Are you afraid of me?" Taylor asked. Before I responded Emma walked back into the room carrying my towel. It was one I had knitted myself. Not very comfortable, but I liked it because I made it myself. It was mine.

Emma used it to wipe the grime off Taylor's wings.

"What did you do to Emma?" I stared at her as she diligently attended to Taylor's wings. "Is that even her?"

"It's her." Taylor patted Emma on the head who smiled a goofy smile. "She belongs to me now, as will you."

I took another step back and leaned on my bedpost. Taylor took a step forward as I did so. "I never did like parahumans all that much," I said through gritted teeth. "They make things unfair."

Taylor came towards me. "Oh, I think things are very fair. Two years of torture at your hand and now—"

I grabbed my pillow and threw it at Taylor's face while swiping what I kept underneath. Taylor didn't have any trouble sidestepping the pillow but it threw her off balance. I lunged. I don't know how much of it was dumb luck that let me plunge the knife into her.

But it was incredibly satisfying feeling it pierce her flesh.

Momentum quickly caught up and the rest of me crashed into her. It was like crashing into a brick wall. She barely stumbled from my impact and a second later I felt her arm grab me behind my back and spin me around. She pinned me but I could see the knife I had stuck into her heart.

Emma grabbed it and gently pulled it out. "You shouldn't do that to master!"

I tried to pull away from Taylor but her grip was too strong. Her hands were shaking, but I couldn't tell if it was from nervousness or excitement. I was at her mercy and she only needed to use one arm.

"Nice try," she said. "The world may not be fair, but I can correct that." She used her free hand to stroke my hair. "You'll become my cute little pet, Madison. That's what I want. You can wear a collar, sit at my feet and be an obedient little puppy."

"Screw you."

"You won't really have a choice in the matter."

I tried to turn my head so I could look at her, but it was awkward and I could only catch her in the corner of my eye. This wasn't the Taylor Hebert I knew. This was someone completely different than the girl I bullied back in Winslow. "What the hell happened to you, Taylor?"

She tightened her hold on me. "You did." Her fingers ran through my hair once again and she brought her head close, whispering in my ear. "You, Sophia and Emma. I'll carve everything you've done back into you."

That wasn't the actual answer. Taylor was a cape for at least a month before the PRT caught her, and at any moment she could have come here and attacked me. But she didn't. Only after did she escape from prison did she show up at my doorstep.

But it didn't matter. I struggled again to get away but it was no use. She had me completely in her grasp.

"Cute." She laughed. "Resist all you want. You'll soon lose the ability to. I wonder how you'll taste once I sink my fangs into your neck."

Emma stood by watching, completely useless. Sophia must have been listening on the phone but there were no sounds of sirens in the distance. I needed to buy time. That's all I could do.

"Do you know what pisses me off?" Taylor leaned her head against mine, her fangs inches away from my neck. She could take me at any moment.

"What, Taylor?"

"Even pinned here at my mercy you still won't say it. Did it even cross your mind to apologize to me? Just to say the words 'I'm sorry.' For the locker, for the bullying, for anything. Everything you did to me."

Silence took the room. I listened for the sound of help but there was none. Nothing but the rain drizzling down on the poor roof. Emma was as still as a statue. My phone made no noise. And even in the corner of my eye Taylor had a sad look on her face.

It might be all she ever wanted. For one of us to apologize. Sincerely. For tormenting her so and allowing this hatred to grow within her.

Yet,

"I do not apologize, Taylor Hebert."

She hurled me into my dresser. The wood splintered and I could feel the bones in my body snap and break from the impact. Splinters dug into my skin and I started coughing up blood, completely unable to stand. When I tried to get up I simply fell over, my legs not doing their job.

"You really are evil, Madison."

Taylor kicked me in my stomach, causing me to break out in a coughing fit. Blood definitely came out.

"I should punish you a bit more before I have you serve me."

She spit in my face. I tried to stand once again but there was no strength in my limbs. I could only hobble. Taylor laughed at me.

Help. Somebody. Sophia. Anybody.

Please.

Help.

 **Destination.**

 **Acceptance.**

Darkness surrounded me. I could see nothing but darkness in all directions and the rain pelted my body. It drenched what remained of my clothes and my hair, mixing with the pool of blood under me. My limbs wouldn't respond to what my mind asked of them. They simply laid there useless.

But I was alone. There was no Taylor. No Sophia. Not my parents or anyone. Just me, alone with the rain to pound away what remained of my life.

The surface was slanted. Gravity still worked despite my eyes not. Maybe it was minutes, or only a few seconds, or maybe an hour. But the veil of darkness slowly receded and revealed the outline of a suburb. It might have been my neighborhood. I couldn't tell.

My eyes adjusted to see the roads and the broken streetlights failing to light up even the tiniest sliver of the night. But I could hear the rainwater flowing down the block like a river.

 _I'm dying._

Safety. I needed to find safety. A hospital. A phone. Anything to get help. That's all I needed. Somebody to help me.

There was no help on the slanted roof. The darkness concealed where I really was, but I could tell it was a roof. There were tiles I could feel against my useless legs.

The faint outline of downtown lied in the distance. I stared at it.

I crashed into the pavement. _Too far._ My bones ached from the impact but I held my tongue. I wanted to scream, but she might have heard me. Somebody needed to help me but I couldn't let Taylor find me. I tried to bring my head up to get my bearings but the rain kept throwing my wet hair in front of my eyes.

Even the strength to brush it aside didn't come.

Downtown. _Too far._ But that way.

I crashed into the pavement again. It was softer this time. I'm getting closer. Moving. Hopping.

The suburb turned into a commercial district. Homes into office buildings. I could see a few people walking. It wasn't late. People were still out with umbrellas. My vision blurred. Maybe there was water in my eyes. Maybe I was losing consciousness.

Almost there. I kept going towards the people. They'd help me.

I don't know if I made it. It was too dark. I couldn't move.

Nor could I _move._

The veil of darkness overtook me again, my body wouldn't move, and then there was nothing. Nothing at all.


	13. Transistor 2-2

**Transistor 2.2**

"Miss, can you hear me?"

I couldn't see a thing. Just blackness. I could move, barely, but it hurt.

"My name is Amy. Or Panacea. I'm a parahuman with healing abilities. Listen, you've suffered major trauma. But all of it's fixable if you give me permission."

I tried to say "yes" but was unable to speak. Instead I attempted a nod, but it hurt. I don't know why I couldn't see. Everything was just black.

"Alright. This may hurt a bit but you'll be fine."

Panacea's cold hand touched my forearm. My body went stiff and then convulsed. Some group of people pinned my arms down which only made it hurt more. But less than a minute later my vision returned and the pain slowly started to subside. Panacea stepped back and smiled at me.

But it was fake.

"Thank you," I said. She healed me after all.

There were some others in the room which was definitely not a hospital. It looked like a makeshift infirmary at best. I recognized some of the people in the room with me: Miss Militia and Armsmaster. And there was somebody else I didn't recognize, but he didn't really matter. Mostly I was concerned why three superheroes were looking after me.

But I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"If you don't mind us asking, can you tell us what happened?" Miss Militia asked.

"I, uh." The memories were a little fuzzy. I remember being thrown into my furniture, Taylor trying to hurt me and—shit. "My family is in danger," I said quickly. "Taylor Hebert has them."

Miss Militia and Armsmaster looked at one another. "We have the Wards patrolling the area where we found you, but no one's seen any sign of Miss Hebert," Armsmaster said. "If you're willing to tell us your name we can check on your family."

"It's Ma—"

 _If I'm willing?_ Wait.

"Why would I not want to tell you my name?"

"You're not wearing a mask. We don't investigate parahuman identities."

"I'm not a parahuman."

Once again the two superheroes gave each other looks. These two must have a case of mistaken identity, though it makes sense now. I got treatment from Panacea because they think I'm a parahuman like them. Look out for their own and whatnot.

"You _are_ a parahuman though," Panacea said. "Believe me, I sensed it when I healed you. However, I'm not officially associated with the PRT so I should take my leave. I hope you feel better, miss."

What?

Armsmaster looked about to say something as Panacea showed herself out but Miss Militia cut him off. "You may have just gotten your powers," she said softly. "People get powers in times of extreme crisis. We won't ask, but whatever happened to you may have caused it. Do you feel any different at all? It should be a natural feeling, but..."

I stared at the both of them. Then around at the room. Two beds, a couple of medical instruments and some machine whose purpose I could only guess. Thinking I am a superhero is absurd, that's the sort of thing that happens to other people. I'm not cut out for it.

The walls of the room weren't white, but a pale blue. Freshwater blue or clear blue sky, hard to tell with this lighting. The lights were those newer ones with the fancy bulbs so probably the former.

I reached over to the counter and grabbed one of the tools. It was a type of scalpel. Six-point-one inches long laying at a three-degree angle away from the edge of the counter. Someone had placed it down and tried to line it up neatly. Four-point-six inches from the side of the counter, eight-point-zero from the bottom edge.

Like a pen I twirled the scalpel around in my hand. I stared at it, then stared where I had picked it up from.

I moved it back exactly where I had picked it up from. Perfect.

"A teleporter," Armsmaster said. I spun my head back to him. I had forgotten they were there. "We'd like you to join the Wards, of course, but it's your decision. The Wards would—"

"Yes."

"Sorry?"

"Yes, I will join the Wards." I said. _Who would ever say no to that?_ "My name is Madison Clements, please make sure my family is safe. Our address is 204 Crescent Drive."

Armsmaster nodded and excused himself from the room. Miss Militia tried to assure me they would do everything in their power to make sure my family was safe, but I noticed very explicitly how she didn't promise to rescue them or that things would be fine. She spoke like a lawyer. Or maybe I just spent too much time around Emma's dad.

 _...Emma._

"I don't want to pry," Miss Militia said, "but do you know why Miss Hebert may have come after you?"

"Yeah. We knew each other from school. She didn't like me much."

For good reason, though I didn't have anything against her personally. Whatever reason she became the target of Emma's malice was beyond my knowledge or care.

"She didn't seem like the type to take revenge though. And I would have thought she'd do it sooner."

Guilt.

Not me, but Miss Militia.

"She, ah, may have had a change of heart after her arrest and subsequent escape," she said. That didn't sound like _nearly_ the whole story by her tone. Something I should take note of. "We'll have you fully debriefed at some point," she continued. "There's a lot to take care of."

"Paperwork?"

"Yes, quite a lot of it." She chuckled.

I slid my legs over the side of my bed and tried to stand up. My body felt perfectly fine. Panacea really was the miracle cure. Though when I stood I realized I was in one of those hospital gowns. My clothes were piled on a chair in the corner but they were clearly beyond repair.

Damn you, Taylor, I liked that outfit.

Miss Militia stayed in the room with me as I wandered around looking at everything. I soon put her out of my mind as I explored. It was a simple enough room, fifteen-by-ten feet with two six-foot-long beds in it. They were angled at thirty degrees at the top third so patients could sit up with a mechanism at the base to adjust it.

A cabinet contained a jar of tongue depressors, six-inch diameter. I grabbed the jar and opened the lid, staring at the configuration of depressors. They were stuffed in there pretty good so after I turned the jar upside-down I had to give it a few shakes before they fell to the floor.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Miss Militia exclaimed.

I placed the jar on the floor and started gathering up the sticks. When I had them all in my hands I stared back at the jar. So if they were like that before, and I just moved them like so...

And the sticks appeared back in the jar. The exact same configuration as I had found them, those three were at that little angle, on the left was more dense, one at a sideways angle. Yup, just perfect. I put the cap on and started to place it back on the shelf.

Miss Militia grabbed the jar out of my hands before I could. "These are supposed to be sanitary," she said and threw them in the garbage. "You're acting like a thinker as well as a mover. Just perfect."

"I sense sarcasm."

"Sorry, I don't have good experience with thinkers." She crossed her arms. "We have one in this city that's just terrible. A terrible, terrible human being."

My cape knowledge wasn't good so I couldn't think of any villain thinkers. But then again I only knew the names of about five capes and three of them were the Triumvariate. Speaking of which, I needed to think of a cape name.

I fished one of those sticks out of the trash can and broke it in half. It was far from a clean break. There were little strands and splinters sticking out from both ends. I stared at the ends, memorizing each little detail. Then I held one of the ends in front of my face splinter-side up.

And moved the other end on top of it.

Miss Militia gasped. "Did you just repair that?"

I shook my head and blew on it, the stick falling apart once again. "I just placed it back together."

"Still, you have an extremely fine control of your ability. That sort of mastery is rare right out of the gate."

"It's not that. I can see everything. Exactly where everything is and how far away it is and the dimensions and size and _everything._ "

"Oh, I see. Or rather, I don't, but I understand what you're saying."

Miss Militia watched me experiment more with my powers while we waited for Armsmaster to return. But there wasn't much I could gleam that I didn't already know. I could teleport things I could touch as well as myself and others. Miss Militia let me experiment that one on her and we both moved across the room.

Armsmaster returned after about fifteen minutes. "Your family was found in your house. They're rattled but otherwise unharmed. We're having them brought here as we speak."

Thank god. Either Taylor was mostly talk or she wasn't willing to harm my family. Which was good in either instance but the latter worried me. It meant she was saving all her malice for _me_ specifically.

My parents and little brother arrived in my room within the hour.

"Maddy honey!"

They hugged me and I hugged them back.

"I was so worried," mom said. "They said that you had been hurt by that awful villain and were in the hospital."

"I'm fine mom."

"Sis sis, they said you have super powers," Alexander exclaimed. "Can you show me? Pretty please?"

I smiled and ruffled his hair. "In a little bit, promise."

"Now that you're all here, there are some things we need to cover." Said Armsmaster. We quieted down and listened though I was miffed he interrupted our reunion. "Since Taylor Herbert is targeting you we want you to go into a witness protection program. At least until she is detained. You'll be put up in an apartment downtown."

We didn't complain. It was the sensible thing to do.

"We'll let you know when it's all set up, but for now you should stay here in the PRT building. It will be safe here."

There wasn't much else he had to say and no one bothered or interrogated us for the rest of the night. They let us sleep in a common room on an upper floor. It was hardly comfortable, but better than being sitting ducks for Taylor.

All of that interrogating happened the next day. Or, at least it was _supposed_ to. But one cape emergency later and I was waiting in a gray-walled room for an hour while no one showed up. After said hour I decided to leave.

Not that there was anywhere to go. I wandered around the floor and found the director's office, though there was no name on the door. There were some other offices too, but that was the extent of the floor we were on. Wherever the actual heroes hung out, it wasn't here.

I was bored.

 _Bored bored boooored._

"Hey," someone finally said. I'd found myself in somebody's office reading a magazine I found on their desk. I looked up to see someone in a cape costume. I didn't know who he was, but his outfit suggested something about speed.

"Sorry, is this your office?" I asked.

"No, but I'm pretty sure it's not yours either."

I paused. "That response doesn't make sense."

The man stood there for a moment. "Huh?" he said. "It felt right when I said it."

I put down the magazine. "So how can I help you?"

"You're the new Ward, aren't you? Armsmaster told me to come find you up here."

I nodded. One of the reasons it was so boring was that my family was off taking care of paperwork with the marshal service. But _I_ had to stay here so that I could get introduced into the Wards program.

That was hours ago.

"Follow me, then." He said. "I'm going to give you a ranking examination."

Following him turned out to be more of a journey than I bargained for, as we left the building entirely. At least it was clear what had the PRT so distracted though—the first and second floor of their building were torn apart.

The hero and I left the decrepit building and got into a truck with the PRT logo. It felt weird to be driving in a car with a superhero. We should be flying or something.

I still didn't know his name.

He gave me a mask to wear when we arrived at some old golf course. The grass had died and the fairways were now lakes. Thanks, Leviathan.

"So a ranking exam," the hero said, "will help us better understand your abilities. And hopefully it will help _you_ understand them better as well, uh. Sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Madison. Yours?"

He paused for a moment. Just a slight hesitation. "It's Robin, though you should call me Velocity when I'm in costume."

Velocity, got it. "Okay," I said. "I don't have a cape name yet so Madison is fine."

"Fair enough. Now where was I? The ranking exam, right. Superhero classification falls into a number of categories: mover, shaker, brute and breaker. Master, tinker, blaster and thinker. Striker, changer, trump and stranger."

"Cute rhyme."

"It is. All superheros get classified as some or many of them. They're also given a rank for each one based on the general severity and power of their ability. To give you a relevant example, if you can only teleport things a few inches then you'll get a mover one, but if you can teleport across the planet you'll get a mover ten."

With that in mind we got to work testing my powers. The tests started off by having me teleport a number of items of various sizes and weights various distances. Then he had me teleport him, which worked just the same as when I had teleported Miss Militia.

"So it seems," Velocity said. "Your maximal range is—"

"Eighty-one-point-five meters."

"Yes. You saw that, I'm assuming."

I nodded.

"Moving on, your maximal weight is 130.7 kilograms not including yourself. It seems you can move anything up to exactly eighty-one-point-five meters, and anything up to a hundred and thirty kilograms. It's oddly rigid. I would expect you to be able to move lighter objects farther and heavier objects shorter, but they don't seem to be correlated at all."

I shrugged. "That's just the way it is I guess, Mister Velocity."

"Just Velocity is fine."

 _Oh I'm quite aware, Robin._ I watched him collect his notes on my ability while jotting a few things down here and there.

"So for entry level rankings I'm classifying you as a mover four, thinker three and stranger two. Depending on your performance in the future those may be adjusted."

"Really?" I asked. "Do powers really change over time or something?"

Velocity shrugged. "It's hard to say. Over time they seem to get stronger, but really the classification is for tactical purposes. So even if someone has a power that isn't exactly a mover, if they're clever enough to use it to move we'll give them the class. There's actually a rumor of a villain who has a level two rank in every single class, just because she's that clever about using her ability."

"Oh."

"Well anyways, that's all of the scheduled tests, but I want to try one more thing. After that you can meet your team."

"Sure."

Instead of heading to the PRT headquarters we went to the police department. Velocity chatted with a few of the officers there before they let us inside the station. It wasn't clear where we were going until we headed down into the shooting range. It was completely empty except for the two of us.

"I'd like to test your accuracy," he said, and handed me a pair of goggles, ear protection and finally a pistol. After showing me a bit on how to work it, he had me aim the pistol towards the target.

It was easy to see how it all lined up. The sights pointed to where the bullet would hit, so I lined that up with the bulls eye on the target and pulled the trigger.

"Gah!"

I almost dropped the pistol after firing it. It nearly flew out of my hand.

"You missed entirely," Velocity said.

"The stupid gun flew backwards," I shot back.

"Hmm." He took the gun back to the rack and grabbed something else. "Try this. It's a 22 so it won't have nearly as much kickback."

With a lot more care, I aimed this new, slimmer gun at the target. When I pulled the trigger it stayed perfectly still. Not _nearly_ as violent as that monstrosity he handed me before.

Velocity was a lot more pleased.

"All your shots were dead on. You're probably best suited for long-range combat and support. Well, that's not really my decision. Interesting though." Velocity handed me a packet of papers. "In any case here's your evaluation. We should get back to the HQ."

The PRT building was only a few blocks away from the local police station so we made it there without any trouble. Velocity led me into their fancy elevator which took us up to the Wards' floor. The elevator required a special passcode to stop at the floor and even when we reached it, the door didn't open.

"It waits sixty seconds to let the Wards put on masks," Velocity explained. "The director will walk you through the terrible protocols for all this stuff. Look forward to it."

"Sounds like a real blast."

Sixty seconds on the dot the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. On the other side was a group of people, most of them around my age, along with Armsmaster, Miss Militia and a man in a suit. The director I assume. No one was in costume besides Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

The Wards, unmasked.

"Welcome to the Wards program, Miss Clements," said the director. "I'm Director T—"

 _"Sophia?"_

Director whomever could wait. Standing there on the right was definitely _Sophia Hess._ She had her hand on her hip and smirked when our eyes locked.

"Hey Mads."

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, idiot?"

Sophia was a Ward? She wasn't exactly hero material. If anything I would have thought she'd be a villain. She wasn't Vista for certain, so she had to be Shadow Stalker.

Which made a lot of sense now that I thought about it. _Wasn't she on probation? Yeah, alright, the world does make sense._

"You two know each other?" The director asked.

"Yeah," I said. "We're friends from school."

One of the boys coughed. " _Sophia_ has a friend? This Sophia?" The boy pointed rudely at Sophia. "Our Sophia right here, right? This one has a friend?"

"Yes, you twat." Sophia whacked him over the head and strode towards me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Don't mind Dennis, he's a piece of shit."

"You're too kind."

The director coughed to get everyone's attention. " _As I was saying,"_ he said. His authoritative tone even stopped Sophia in her tracks. "I am Director Thomas Calvert, and these are the Brockton Bay Wards. Your official reveal will be tomorrow and Glen assures me your costume will be ready before then. All the paperwork is done so there's nothing left to say but welcome."

"We have pizza," offered Dennis.

Director Calvert excused himself while the rest of us raided the table stacked up with pizza boxes. I grabbed a slice of pepperoni and a Sprite while everyone else went to town on the rest. Before I could enjoy it I was peppered with questions. They were also very free with their identities and which heroes they were, though it wasn't hard to figure out.

Their cape personalities were the same as their actual ones.

"So teleporter right?" Vista, or Missy as was her actual name, asked. "We should experiment together. Us spacers gotta stick together."

"Sure, that sounds fun."

She didn't seem to realize we'd met days earlier.

It was interesting, actually. At Winslow Sophia, Emma and I basically dominated. But it wasn't the case here. Sophia was an outcast. The Wards here were all really nice to each other and Sophia's attitude put them off, so instead of socializing she was at her desk.

If Sophia wasn't the leader of the pack, as she'd put it, I'd have to find out who was. Best to be friends with everyone for now.

"So can you tell me what it's like being a Ward?" I asked. "It seems super dangerous to be kinda honest."

They shied away from that question. I could see in their eyes how they didn't want to answer. Which in a way was the clearest answer I was going to get.

"It's not as safe as it used to be," Weld finally said. He was a monster like Taylor. But unlike Taylor he was almost entirely inhuman, completely made out of metal or something. "Leviathan, the Nine, and the general state of the city is rough. I'm new to Brockton Bay myself but besides Endbringers it was never this _deadly_ before."

"Oh."

Crap. Maybe I shouldn't have accepted this so readily.

"Don't worry too much," Dennis said. "It's safer when you're part of a team. Plus, the Nine are long gone so you won't have to deal with them."

Sophia snorted. "That's not how you cheer her up." She walked right over to me and slapped me on the back. "This one was hoping to meet them, for sure."

"What?" I said. "Don't be silly. Of course not!"

She crossed her arms. "Oh? I seem to recall a certain sleepover where we did the typical 'who's your favorite cape' game. Emma and I both picked Shadow Stalker, obviously, but you picked... oh who was it?" Sophia grinned wide. "Ah, right. _Bonesaw._ "

A pit opened up in my stomach. Fuck you, Sophia. This is not what I needed in my first introduction to the Wards.

"Then you went on that long tirade," Sophia continued, "about how the Nine were putting us damn heroes in our place and we shouldn't be so high and mighty. You realize I was in the room with you then, right?"

"That's—that's not at all what I said." I said. "You're twisting my words to make me look bad. Meanie. Meanie meanie."

It wasn't a tirade, it was a logically sound argument. Sophia gave me a knowing smile but backed off. I threw on my best puppy-dog eyes and held my arm as I faced the rest of the Wards. "I know how serious it is. Sophia's—"

"Yeah," Dennis said, more concerned with his slice of pizza than my troubles. "We know how she is."

"On the topic of the Nine," Weld said, "you shouldn't say they're gone." He crossed his arms. Or what passed for arms.

"What?" Dennis said. "It's true, even if we have no idea how or why or for how long."

It was obvious Dennis was trying to joke around but nobody laughed. Me, in particular, because I had no idea what they were talking about. But the dynamic was more interesting than the topic of conversation. Weld was the leader of the Wards as written down in the paperwork, but he didn't run the group friendship.

No one seemed to run it.

"Can you fill me in?" I asked in my sweetest voice.

"They sent us a message yesterday," Weld said. "It said they forfeit the game and decided to give us a victory present. Except no one knows what it is."

"Scary."

"That's the understatement of the year," Dennis chimed.

If I had to characterize it the Wards had the "core" group consisting of everyone but Sophia and Weld. Dennis was the glue that held it together, but it's impossible to say for certain. What doesn't make sense is why Sophia was excluded. She couldn't have been considered weak.

They had even made fun of her for having a friend. Well, Dennis had.

Hmm.

The mixer lasted awhile, though there was no formal end. I had nowhere else to go, unlike the other Wards, and eventually a few of them had to leave on patrol. I was free to explore the PRT building fully.

After getting every inch of the place down, minus the broken bits, I took the bus home. Though it didn't lead me "home" so much as the run-down apartment my family had to stay in while Taylor Hebert was out there trying to murder me.

 _No, wait, she isn't trying to murder me. She's trying to do something worse._ Hopefully being a Ward will stop her in her tracks.

The next day my revealing ceremony took place. The PRT went as all-out as they could afford because, as the director put it, it provided some much-needed PR boost. Even though the Nine was gone the city was still in ruins and talks were going on about condemning the entire thing.

I could hear the director speaking through the microphone up on the stage, announcing this so-called joyous news. Before he could continue on with his speech he was asked a hundred questions by reporters about the state of the city. He had to insist they quiet down so he could continue.

"And so, Brockton Bay is pleased to announce the addition of a new Ward. I'm confident that things are looking up for our fair city. We survived Leviathan, we survived the Nine, and will only be stronger because of it. Even among tragic losses, as long as there are still heroes willing to fight we can survive anything. So, without any further ado,"

This was my cue.

"I'm pleased to present our newest Ward, Transistor."

Calvert gestured to the empty stage and I teleported where he indicated, two-and-a-half feet in the air. I stuck the much-practiced landing and bowed to the crowd. After an initial gasp they clapped.

"Thank you everyone," I said loudly. "I'm Transistor, and as you can guess I'm a teleporter." I teleported around the stage, waving at the crowd. My costume was a white and purple dress coat with white underclothing, boots, gloves and a masquerade mask. There were cuts in places along the outfit to give me better mobility but they weren't visible. No other headgear besides the mask let me show off my hair, though the PR guy said I should wear a different hairstyle in costume than I normally do.

Which is fine.

After my little demonstration the audience clapped again and Calvert took back over the speech.

This isn't the part I was worried about. This is the easy part. The hart part would come later that night when I had to go on my first patrol. Weld had made some comment about how he would have preferred to go on an easier daytime patrol, but the director insisted I go out at night.

Before any of that we had a post-ceremony meeting to go to.

"Welcome to the world of being a superhero," Dennis said. "Meetings, paperwork and sucking up to the boss."

It seemed like every hero and PRT agent showed up to this meeting. It was titled the State of the City meeting, though I was curious what we would actually talk about. Nobody looked interested in being here.

I'm sure that apathy will hit me eventually, but right now it's new and exciting.

"Alright, seems we're all here." Calvert said. "So let's get started. For those of us who are new, most notably Transistor over there—" He pointed over and I gave a small wave. "—we'll have these meetings every Monday to catch everyone up on the overall state of the city. Things have been changing rapidly recently, and if you don't realize where you are and who controls it things can get very bad."

 _Who... controls it?_

"So let's start right from the basics. Brockton Bay can be broken down into four districts: The docks, the train yard, the beaches, and downtown." A map was projected on the wall behind Calvert. He pushed a button on the remote he was holding and a few colors were overlaid over the map of the city. "These colors represent who currently controls what. A majority of the city is controlled by the Undersiders, and the rest is controlled by the Travelers. The only exception is the train yard, which is under Parian's control.

"Now in all honesty," Calvert continued, "None of these three groups is posing any immediate threat. While it's bad that our city is under the thumb of villains, they aren't perpetuating chaos. They're just as committed to keeping the streets safe as we are. The problem is the methods they use to enforce it. Ideally we want to get back to the old status quo, but it's no excuse to do anything _rash._ "

Calvert gave a few people a look. I didn't know the context, but it was clear that somebody did something he didn't like at some point.

"Anyways," he said. "The Merchants are disbanded. Squealer and Skidmark are around—we'll get to that—but the rest of them are dead. The larger gang has completely fallen apart. They hold no territory and no one claims to be part of it anymore."

I didn't keep up on cape or gang activities at all, so I didn't know who these people were.

"After the reveal of the Empire's identities, they've splintered into two groups led by Fenrir and Purity. They hold no territory but are causing trouble. I'm marking any of the former Empire members as acceptable targets. Detain on sight.

"Faultline's crew is still present and still running the Palanquin. There's no changes there. Don't bother attacking them unless they're actively opposing you. We have enough enemies as it is.

"The ABB still exists, but its only parahuman member is Lung. Regretfully this still makes them a major threat. While it doesn't have more than twenty or thirty members, they're still too strong to attempt to detain easily. Lung is a major player and we can't ignore his presence. The former member Bakuda is around as well, but we have no idea where she is. This leads into one last puzzle."

Calvert hit another button on his remote and the slide changed. It showed the face of a girl I knew very well.

"This is Taylor Hebert, known as Wingspan in our records. She was arrested about one month ago and was held awaiting trial for manslaughter and kidnapping. People said she was a model prisoner, but on the night of Shatterbird's attack she was broken out of her cell by Squealer, Skidmark, Bakuda and an unknown female. The escape cost eight PRT agents their lives. Faultline's crew claims she never came back, and to the best of our knowledge she was being honest. For a few days Taylor and the capes who broke her out were completely silent."

Calvert looked over at me.

"Then she attacked Transistor in her own home. Violently. From her profile I expected her to lay low for at least a couple of months, but she quickly came back out of the shadows to attack a—no offense, Transistor—relatively unimportant individual."

He's blunt. I like that, though I think I was plenty important in Taylor's mind. The director's point is solid though. It wasn't a tactically useful decision on her part.

"Until we have further information, we're going to assume that Wingspan, Squealer, Skidmark and Bakuda are part of a single team. Why these four formed up escapes me, but evidence seems to point to it."

Calvert concluded his presentation by talking about the reconstruction efforts of the city. He made a token comment about how talks of condemnation were causing supplies and construction companies to reconsider investments, so it wasn't going as well as he would have liked. People were still living in third-world conditions or worse.

After a few questions the meeting was concluded. Could have been worse. I thought it was very illuminating.

"Ready to go?" Clockblocker asked me.

I nodded, and the patrol began. In the early evening I stood with Sophia, Vista and Clockblocker at some random intersection. I'd never been here before but Clockblocker had said I would learn the streets quickly enough.

"We need to be a little careful, Transie." Vista pointed down one of the streets. "Down there is Grue's territory. Our patrol will keep to the border of it, but we shouldn't actually enter."

"Why not?"

"Not worth it," Clockblocker said. "The Undersiders-Travelers union basically controls the entire city. The director underplayed that they're way stronger than us. We don't want to start something with them without major preparations on our part. The boss seems intent on driving them out but he's doing it carefully."

"Fucking Grue," Shadow Stalker said under her breath. "We should go in there and beat the shit out of him."

Vista crossed her arms. _"We can't."_

"You mean you _won't,_ pipsqueak."

She didn't disobey the orders though and Shadow Stalker jogged on ahead leaving us three to play catch-up. We skirted the edge of what started as Grue's territory, then moved to Regent's, and then Trickster's. There didn't seem to be much difference to me except for the graffiti.

"They'll probably turn on each other," Vista said. "Villains do that. Sure they own the city _now,_ but eventually maybe Trickster will want something in Grue's territory, or Tattletale will piss off Sundancer. Or Tattletale will piss off Ballistic. Or Tattletale will piss off Genesis."

I had to ask. "Uh, Tattletale?"

"Villain," Clockblocker said. "As Vista so eloquently explained, she has a tendency of pissing people off. Nasty thinker though. Some sort of mind-reading. We don't know. But dealing with her is easy enough: prevent her from talking to you. She can't blackmail or trick or con you if you can't hear what she's saying."

"I prefer shooting her," Shadow Stalker said.

"Yes we know."

Shadow Stalker had gone with a crossbow as her weapon. I decided to go for the much more elegant longbow, which my ability gave me near-perfect accuracy with. I held it at my side, ready to use it at a moment's notice. But after an hour I relaxed my hand.

"This is boring."

Clockblocker laughed. "Yes welcome to reality."

"Well, since not much is happening, uh." Vista tugged on my sleeve. "Want to experiment a little with our abilities?"

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Your range is eighty meters right?"

I nodded.

"I can stretch and compress space, so I think we maybe can extend it." Vista pointed down the block we just came from. "Try moving something."

I looked around until I saw some debris and picked up one of the chunks of concrete. I moved it as far as I could down the street and far in the distance saw it fall to the ground.

"How far did it go?" Vista asked.

"Ninty-two meters, but it was a little off from where I meant to send it. By a foot."

"Still works, sorta!"

We continued to play around with our abilities while on the rest of the patrol. It seemed that Vista was equally able to both hinder and enhance my ability. The manipulated space messed with whatever my thinker ability was that let me see distances so clearly, but it also fooled whatever my hard limit was.

Our patrol eventually moved away from the borders of the villain's territory and weaved through the part of downtown the PRT actually had some semblance of control over. Which was, if I was being honest, pitifully small.

But our patrol was coming to a close without anything of interest happening. One last loop around this block and we'd be done. It wasn't even that dark. Plenty of lights were working around here and the half-full moon was pretty bright.

"Most will be like this," Clockblocker said. "For every cape conflict you hear about there's twenty patrols that go by with no incident whatsoever. You'll hate them from boredom soon enough."

"Believe me, I'm perfectly fine with boring." I said with a smile.

There was a laugh from afar.

"That is truly unfortunate for you," said Taylor.


	14. Transistor 2-3

**Transistor 2.3**

We spun up at her voice. She was sitting on the roof of a two-story building, her legs dangling over the side. I hadn't sensed her at all.

Shadow Stalker spun her crossbow up and fired a bolt. Taylor dodged it by dropping off the building. She landed in front of us, using her wings to slow her impact.

"Nice to see you too, Sophia."

Clockblocker stepped forward, one of his hands in his bag. "What do you want, Taylor?"

She smiled. "Why, I just wanted to say hi to my dear friends _Sophia Hess_ and _Madison Clements."_ She looked right at me. "How are you doing, Madison?"

"Yes we get it," Clockblocker intervened. "You know their names. Acting on that would be breaking the truce though. You know that. Your threat is empty."

Taylor frowned. "You've broken that truce more often than I ever have." She shrugged. "But whatever, what was it you call yourself now? Transistor? Doesn't matter, you'll be 'pet' before long."

Finally Taylor turned her attention towards Clockblocker and away from me. I think that was what he was going for.

"What is my cape name then? You must have come up with one for me. I feel I should be aware of it."

"Wingspan."

Taylor extended her wings. They definitely had quite a span to them. "Wingspan. I can see that."

Taylor Hebert folded her wings and looked back to me.

"I must say I thought you would be easier," she said. "Low-hanging fruit, you know. A monster to tame that wouldn't fight back, but apparently you're one who's exceedingly good at escaping."

"You think I'm _low-hanging fruit?_ That's so mean!"

Bitch.

"No." She replied. "I think you're a monster."

"She's not a monster," Vista shouted. "She's really nice, _you're_ the monster. You attacked her whole family for no reason and you even made her trigger. _You_ did that horrible thing to her. You're the monster."

Taylor laughed, but my ears perked up. It sounded forced. "So those who make others trigger are monsters, then?"

"Of course," Vista exclaimed.

"Then I guess the monsters outnumber the humans here tonight." Taylor grinned. "I'm so glad we agree with each other."

"W-What?"

Taylor stepped forward and the rest of us stepped back. Except Sophia. "Who do you think caused _me_ to trigger?" Taylor asked. "No reason? I have every reason." She bared her fangs and stared right at me. I tensed up. "If I am a monster it is only because they made me into one. You reap what you sow, _Madison_."

I couldn't have caused her to trigger.

That couldn't be. That _couldn't_ be. Because if that was true then that means the thing that was her trigger event was—

—was that locker.

And if that gave her powers and really ruined her life it was definitely, _definitely_ my fault. She didn't do that to herself. She didn't let it happen. If she had known the consequences she wouldn't have let us do that to her.

Fuck me.

"You didn't tell them, did you? Of course you didn't." Taylor stopped smiling. "You didn't tell them about the campaign of terror you waged against me for two years. _Two years._ You tormented me for no reason. I didn't even know you! You were _nobody_ Madison, nobody at all but yet you came after me. Put me in the hospital. I honestly thought of suicide a few times, you really pushed me to that."

After another step towards us Vista and Clockblocker shifted to defend me, but the real damage was already being done.

"I will take _everything_ from you, Madison. I will destroy everything you love and force you to feel how I felt. I will make you come crying back to me and beg my forgiveness even if I have to burn down the entire PRT to do it. You monster."

Taylor extended her wings and took off into the air. Before Shadow Stalker could fire a shot she was gone.

This is bad.

"We should get back," said Vista. The rest of us nodded and ran back to the PRT building.

This is bad.

I caused Taylor's fucking trigger and Vista and Clockblocker know it. They didn't say anything on our walk back and I ended up walking behind with Sophia. We lagged behind them.

"If you say anything I'll cut your throat," Sophia said under her breath.

Wonderful.

The next morning a meeting was called. The four of us who were on patrol the previous night had to attend, along with most of the other capes and a few administrators. Armsmaster, Miss Militia and a few others I didn't recognize.

It felt like I was on trial. I wasn't sure how I could possibly answer any questions I would almost definitely be asked. I held my hands under the table to prevent anyone from noticing their tremble.

Director Calvert was the last to come in. He had a slim folder under his arm that he dropped onto the table before moving over to the large whiteboard on the wall.

"Alright everyone," he said. "Last night our Wards out on patrol received a very specific and direct threat to the Parahuman Response Team from the villain Wingspan, also known as Taylor Hebert." He wrote her name on the whiteboard. "It's clear that Taylor believes there to be some unprofessional history between us and her. I would like her detained as quickly as possible, so right now we're going to gather up everything we know about her."

Calvert grabbed his folder.

"We just had a meeting about this, but I want to figure out three things about Taylor today. Her motive, the extent of her abilities and how we plan on stopping her. Transistor and Shadow Stalker should be able to shed some light on the first item."

The whole room stared at us.

"She, uh." I held my hands in my lap. "We knew each other from school. Taylor was that weird girl and we kind of, er, made fun of her for it. I guess. Emma was really the one who went after her, I mostly just went along with it."

"Her tone last night made it sound a bit more serious than that," Clockblocker said.

I shook my head. "Maybe she perceived it differently but we certainly didn't hurt her or anything. Nothing that would warrant some retaliation like this. I kinda get why she's coming after me but... I dunno."

"Anything to add, Shadow Stalker?" The director asked.

"No."

"Oh come on," Clockblocker said. "It has to be more than that. She was really pissed off at you two, that's not just from a little bullying. She killed your friend Emma for Christ's sake."

I held up my hand. "Excuse me, but Emma's not dead."

"I beg your pardon?" Asked Calvert.

Did they not know this? They should have known this already. "Yeah," I said. "I saw her. She was there with Taylor when she came into my home."

"Why the hell didn't you say this during your debrief?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Uh, no one ever debriefed me. I waited in the room for like three hours and no one showed up."

Calvert put his head in his hands. "This place, I swear. Was it really Emma Barnes, or merely someone who looked like her?"

I exhaled a deep breath. "What I actually saw was someone who looked like and sounded exactly like the Emma I knew. Except she was completely subservient to Taylor. She acted like... she wasn't a slave. She acted more like she was in love or enthralled."

Calvert sat down and leaned back in his chair. The look on his face was all too telling, but Armsmaster was the one to speak next. He loudly cleared his throat to command attention.

"The worst case then is she has master-class abilities to take over human minds. Dangerously leveled ones. Best case is she can create some sort of dolls she can control. Though if that were the case it speaks to her mental state that she would create it in the form of Emma Barnes."

"We'll reach out to Faultline's crew," Calvert continued. "Some coin _might_ loosen their tongues. Otherwise we'll try to put a request into the think tank. Anyone who has any other thinkers they can tap, please do so. But don't think I didn't see what you did there, Transistor."

"I'm sorry?"

"You changed the topic. I believe Clockblocker confronted you about what really happened between you and Taylor Hebert. Armsmaster?"

"She lied."

I spun towards him. "What? No I didn't."

"Yes, you did." Armsmaster repeated. "I have a lie detector built into my helmet and when you said you certainly didn't hurt her, you lied."

Hell. I looked around at the table to see if that was really true. Every face that stared back at me believed it, true or not, and waited for me to respond. Their eyes accusing me. Except for those of Sophia Hess.

Her glare sliced through my skin.

"You're wrong," I stammered.

Will all due respect Armsmaster, I'm more afraid of Sophia than I am of you. She may not be the boss and she may not be the star of the Wards, but she is the only one here who is willing to destroy another human being. And I'd rather her malice be on my side.

That strategy got me through high school, after all.

"I can vouch for the authenticity and accuracy of Armsmaster's device," Calvert said in a cool tone. "Transistor, I'm going to give you a chance to rethink your position on this. Catching Wingspan is paramount to regaining control over Brockton Bay. If there is anything you know about her motives, tell us."

Silence reigned, but my answer stood the same. "Please. I don't know anything."

Armsmaster sighed and Calvert turned towards Shadow Stalker. "Well? How about you, Shadow Stalker. Care to shed any light?"

"Nope."

Calvert nodded and straightened the papers in his folder. "Then you two are free to leave. Please adjourn back to the Wards room."

I wasted no effort in leaving as quickly as possible. That went worse than I could have imagined. Armsmaster had a fucking _lie detector_ in his helmet.

Sophia must have known. It would be just like her to let me make a fool of myself.

I gave her a glare. "Thanks a lot, bitch."

"They can't prove anything," she shot back. "I'm on probation, remember? You opening your fat mouth about Hebert will give them an excuse to lock me away."

I didn't have a response to that. She wasn't wrong, but she screwed me over on this one. My relationship with the Wards was over before it began. I've seen this before. I've made it _happen_ to people before. They'll talk and I'll be excluded.

It will be subtle at first. They'll involve me in work stuff, but no invitations to the after-work party and I won't be wanted at their lunch table in Arcadia. It's not us, the Wards. It's the Wards and also Sophia and I.

God damn it. I should be better than this.

"Can I go home?" I asked.

"You can do whatever you want," Sophia responded. "But if you do they'll get mad."

I groaned and sat down at my desk. It was mostly empty and now I wasn't sure if it was worth personalizing. I needed a new strategy. Some way to make this history with Taylor Hebert disappear.

The only way right now would be to throw Sophia under the bus. I could claim she threatened me in confidence to somebody—probably Vista—and tell her the truth with some made up bullshit about how I've always regretted it. But then Sophia would slit my throat.

On the other hand, Sophia and I alone might be enough. The decision was to either ally myself with her against the Wards, or remove her entirely.

The meeting lasted over an hour. The others filed in right around three with exhausted looks on their face. They didn't give Sophia and me a glance.

Miss Militia came in after them and gestured for me to follow her. I sighed and pulled myself up from my chair to follow her into the elevator. We rode down to the second floor and she led me to some bright interrogation room. I knew it as such because it was labeled "interrogation room."

"Miss Militia, am I being detained?"

"No, of course not. We just have a few questions."

Calvert walked in after I sat down. It was the three of us and the cameras, which I'm sure recorded everything.

"I thought I would give you the chance to say something here in privacy," Calvert said, "in case there was a certain someone pressuring you back in the meeting."

"Please stop asking me this question," I said.

He sighed. "Transistor, the conclusion I am forced to draw is you and Shadow Stalker, and probably Emma Barnes, did something to Taylor Hebert. Something terrible. Something to make her trigger into what she is. And her hateful obsession of you stems from the fact everything that's happened to her in the past few months is, in her mind, your fault."

I didn't move a muscle. I wouldn't let myself give away any tell.

"If this is wrong, or the specifics somehow important, tell me. Because if you don't and something happens then it will be your fault."

"I don't have anything to say," I said.

Another sigh. "Transistor, I think you should go home for today. I'll have your patrol covered."

I didn't protest and was abruptly escorted out of the building after removing my costume. It wouldn't have taken me more than a minute or two to get home if I used my ability, but doing so would make my identity known. The sacrifices we make for secrecy.

It took awhile before I made it to my apartment building. The ceiling in the hallway was water damaged and the carpet smelled, but it was better than nothing. I knocked on our door before turning the knob and entering.

"I'm home," I said.

"Ah, sis." My brother ran to the door. "Can you do your teleporty thing? C'mon, please?"

"Sure." I gave him a hug and teleported him back into our room. I followed after him, bypassing mom in the kitchen who gave me a smile. There wasn't much to do nowadays for fun. We found a few boardgames we played every night and a couple books, but electricity was sparse and electronics that hadn't been demolished were even more rare.

Stupid Slaughterhouse Nine.

My brother seemed to be using _me_ as his go-to toy. The games he came up for my ability served to test their limits so I didn't mind. Though my precision in teleporting was already at its maximum level.

My phone started ringing. My personal one, not the one the PRT issued me. "Hello?" I answered.

 _"Yo Mads. Want to go patrol?"_

"The director said I shouldn't today."

 _"So? Come on, let's go beat up some bad guys."_

I sighed and watched my little brother look around the room for a deck of cards. He found them in the top drawer, opened the pack and handed them to me. I grasped them and put my finger on the side of the deck so I was touching every card.

"I dunno, I don't really want to..."

 _"What are you, chicken? Grow a spine."_

The deck of cards in my hand teleported in front of me to form a tall, 52-card card tower. It wobbled a little bit and collapsed under its own weight. I paid attention to where it had fallen apart so I could adjust.

"I'd rather not tonight, sorry."

 _"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."_

I hung up the phone and tossed it onto my bed. My brother gathered up the cards for me and I tried to form the tower again. It took several tries but eventually I made one that could stand.

At least I accomplished _something_ today.

 _Knock knock knock._

I heard the knock on the front door from our bedroom. The only people that know we live here are the PRT... Hmm.

"Coming," mom said.

I jumped up from the floor. "Wait," I shouted and ran into the living room. But my mom had already opened the door.

It wasn't Taylor. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Hi, welcome to the neighborhood." said the visitor. Just because it wasn't Taylor didn't mean it wasn't worrisome. The person at our door was wearing a cape costume, though I didn't recognize it. I had the feeling it wasn't a hero.

"W-Who are you?" Mom asked.

"Just your friendly, neighborhood super-villain," she declared, holding out her hand. "Tattletale, at your service. You've moved into my territory so I thought I'd say hi."

My mom looked at a loss for what to do, but Tattletale smiled and held out her hand for someone to shake. Eventually I stepped forward and took it instead.

I was in my civilian identity. This was dangerous.

"Not big talkers, huh?" Tattletale asked. "That's fine. Anyways, we're trying to help people out so I've brought you a small box of foodstuffs." She gestured to a cardboard box she'd placed beside the door. "Doing our civic duty and all that. I know the conditions aren't fantastic here, but we're doing our best. If you need any help, well, I'll know."

"Thanks," I said. "Uh, no offense, but—"

"Yeah yeah I get it. I'm a villain, boo hoo." Tattletale shrugged. "I'm still here to help though, if you want it. _Please_ ask."

She gave me a smile, but all I got were goosebumps. The way she'd emphasized that 'please' was clear. She knew who I was. Probably.

"But regardless, I'll take my leave," Tattletale said. "Enjoy the food. I've included a box of my favorite thin mints just for you."

Tattletale walked off and I dragged the box in, closing the door behind her.

"That was odd," said dad.

I didn't say anything and put the cardboard box on the table. I found a knife and sliced open the packaging. In it was mostly bottles of water, canned food and the like, but there were also a few packages of fresh raspberries, grapes, and some cookies. I grabbed the thin mints since I was the only one in my family who liked mint.

"That was nice of her, I guess." I said. "The people at the PRT said some of the villains weren't causing problems. Umm, the Undersiders. Yeah, Tattletale was part of them."

"Sis," my brother said. "I thought you were supposed to stop villains!"

"I am, but I'm not in costume right now am I?" I said with a smile. "I have to keep up my secret identity and all that."

"Oh."

My parents understood the situation a bit better and started putting away the food. Saying the city was ruled by villains was, while not inaccurate, somewhat misleading. It's not like they t _ook over_. The city went to hell all on its own and they simply stepped up to take care of their own neighborhoods.

After dinner I opened the box of thin mints and reached in to grab a cookie, but my hands closed around a piece of paper instead. I pulled it out and stared at it.

It was handwritten and said quite simply:

" _Talk to Faultline yet? -TT"_


	15. Transistor 2-4

**Transistor 2.4**

"You two will cover us from the rooftops," Weld said. He was hovering over a paper map of the Northern district. Hellhound's territory. "Shadow Stalker should take this area and Transistor this larger one. Any questions about the plan?"

We both shook our heads. Today we were going to drive Hellhound out of her territory and reclaim some of the city for the PRT. Our orders were to capture her if possible but not to pursue her if she ran. It was more important for us to occupy the district than actually capture her.

"Very well. Take your positions."

Shadow Stalker phased through the side of the van and the building it was parked beside. I on the other hand looked out the window and moved myself to the top of a nearby building. After a few more hops between rooftops I was where I was supposed to be. I crouched down low next to one of the ledges and made sure I wasn't visible from below.

The plan was for me to position myself so I would be in the sun, but it was a cloudy day today. I was more visible than I should be.

I checked my watch. Two minutes until go time.

The higher-ups in the PRT mandated that I, like Shadow Stalker, use nonlethal arrows. Apparently using lethal force was unheroic except against Endbringers. But as Shadow Stalker put it, what the PRT doesn't know doesn't hurt me.

 _"Hellhound is in sight,"_ said Weld. " _She's approaching the kennel."_

I stayed where I was. The idea was to catch Hellhound unaware when she was distanced from the rest of the Undersiders. She'd been known to frequent this dog kennel regularly. Unfair, maybe, but that was the price one had to pay for not having a secret identity.

This was going to be my first real, proper cape battle. That little tiff with Taylor wasn't a fight and the most I'd seen on any other patrol was an odd thug here and there. Mostly they ran away.

But now an actual cape fight.

 _"Shadow Stalker, she's in your section. Transistor, stay put."_

Or maybe not.

" _Alright guys. Three, two, one, go!"_

I peeked my head out above the ledge to see what was going on. Hellhound was walking two dogs down the street when Weld and Clockblocker jumped out and confronted her. Almost immediately her dogs started to grow in size and lash out. They both went after Weld, but their attacks didn't get past his metal skin.

Hellhound quickly realized she was outmatched. No matter how strong her dogs were, touching Clockblocker would render them useless and Weld was invulnerable.

So she ran.

Shadow Stalker shot a bolt at her but one of the dogs blocked it. The dog, growing ever-larger, didn't seem to notice the crossbow bolt sticking out of its stomach.

 _"Transistor, she's headed towards you."_

Alright, time to shine. I stood up and readied my arrow, looking around for Hellhound. She came running out of an alleyway and attempted to mount one of her dogs. If she got on top of it she'd probably escape. There wasn't a large window—in a second she'd be behind a building.

I released an arrow.

Just because my ability let me see distances extremely well didn't mean I could account for things like wind or temperature or any of the thousands of variables that affect the flight of an arrow. But my ability _did_ let me skip the arrow's flight entirely.

The thing about my teleportation was that when I teleported my clothes came with me. And even if I wore gloves, objects in my hand would teleport. The exact nature of my ability was revealed through that small little detail. I didn't teleport things I _touched_. I teleported things within exactly zero-point-nine-three inches of my skin.

So an arrow released from a bow was a viable target of my teleportation, speeding past my fingers around the grip.

It retained its momentum right into Hellhound's skull. I didn't even have to aim the bow at her. I could have fired it into the air or at the ground. I changed the position of the arrow so it would hit its mark exactly where I needed it to.

She fell to the ground and stopped moving.

"Got her," I shouted into the headset.

Her dogs surrounded her as Weld and Clockblocker caught up, protecting their seemingly-unconscious master. After some careful footwork Clockblocker eventually froze both the dogs in time. After that was taken care of Clockblocker and Weld ran towards Hellhound.

 _"Jesus Christ Transistor, what the hell did you do to her?"_ Clockblocker asked.

"Uh, I shot her."

 _"In the head. I know you used a blunt arrow but she's in bad shape. Call an ambulance. Or Panacea. She's definitely got a concussion. Probably something worse."_

"You said not to use lethal force. I didn't use lethal force."

 _"There was an implied agreement you wouldn't use said nonlethal force in the most lethal way possible. Jesus Transistor, we're the heroes."_

I stayed silent and remained on the rooftop while the PRT vans emerged from wherever they were hiding. An ambulance also came and they loaded Hellhound into it, carting her off to a hospital somewhere.

They couldn't have expected me to hit her in the gut, let her shrug it off and escape. Aiming for the head was the only viable option to bring her in. It's not like it killed her.

Plus she's a villain who's genuinely hurt people, maybe even killed them. I don't remember her history that much, but it was something bad like that. If Weld and Clockblocker were going to try to make me feel guilty about attacking her they can go right ahead and screw themselves.

"I'm impressed," Shadow Stalker said. I spun around at her voice. She came up to the ledge and watched over the PRT with me, resting her crossbow against the ledge. "None of these pussies ever actually try to take down these bastards. They play fight."

"Please tell me you're just being condescending."

"I fucking wish, Madison." Shadow Stalker—or, Sophia I guess. This two-name thing was still hard to keep track of. Sophia sighed and set down her weapon. Taking the cue I pulled off my headset and switched it to mute. "Until recently this has all been one big bullshit game. Harass the villains a little bit, maybe cart one off to jail only for them to escape. Nothing at all gets accomplished. I hated it."

Sophia stretched out her arms. I could imagine the wide smile on her face past the mask.

"But now, with all of this chaos? Finally these fuckers are acting a little more serious." She laughed. "Finally this fucking town is going to be ruled by the strong instead of getting fat and useless."

She scared me. Her tone was like when she _really_ got into bullying Taylor. Like that day we shoved her into the locker.

"Tattletale gave me a message a week or so ago," I said.

She turned to me. "You didn't tell anyone."

I shook my head. "She wants me to meet Faultline. I've been mulling it over. Thoughts?"

"Officially the PRT would berate you for it," she said.

"No shit." I looked down at Weld and Clockblocker chatting in the street with some PRT officer. "That's hardly the point. You and I both know neither of us care about justice or peacekeeping like the rest of these people." I gestured down to the Wards. "They're just the strongest pack, to steal your phrasing."

"Such a quick study, Mads." Sophia sat down on the ledge of the building and stroked her crossbow. "Don't let them tame you. If you do, this town will swallow you up."

And she was gone. Phased through the roof. _Fucking hell, Sophia, what the hell was that cryptic wording for? Just tell me if I should go see Faultline or not._

I stared up at the sky. The clouds turned a bright shade of orange, mixed with red streaks. Must be sunset. From my perch I couldn't see the horizon it was setting over. I let out a deep breath I didn't know I had been holding.

Hellhound. Rachel... Lindt? Something like that. I'd shot her with an arrow, in the head, and seriously hurt her. In one second I had hurt her more than I had ever hurt Taylor Hebert. And yet somehow I doubted Hellhound would blame me for what I just did to her.

While Taylor would never forgive me.

I've got to get her sent to the Birdcage. It doesn't matter if she deserves it—she probably doesn't. But if she doesn't get sent there, she'll take me.

I clenched my fist.

It shouldn't have to be this way.

"Transistor, what the hell are you doing?" Vista yelled. She shouldn't be here. She wasn't part of the mission.

"Sorry?" I barely heard her since she was on the street below.

"Put your earpiece in," she shouted.

Oh, right. I turned it back on and stuck it in my ear. "What's up?"

 _"If you had been paying attention Transie you'd know that we're being redeployed to downtown. Stay put, I'm coming up."_

Wonderful, another job already. Vista came through the door to the roof far quicker than it should have taken and grabbed my arm. "Come on, we'll run with my ability."

"I can move quickly enough without your help. Probably faster."

"Yes but we need to stick together. it's safer."

 _Can't argue with that._ With Vista augmenting our speed we ran through the streets towards downtown. We were going faster than the PRT vans, which also converged on the scene. Whatever was happening had a huge response.

"What's going on?" I finally asked.

"Not sure. A major battle broke out between Wingspan, New Wave and a buncha villains. It seems to be three ways, mostly Wingspan versus the other villains while New Wave butts in and tries to stop the fighting. We're backing them up."

We heard the fighting long before we saw it. Or, more specifically, we heard the sounds of explosions and the screeching of tires. I drew an arrow out of my quiver and nocked it on my bow, ready to face Taylor. Though it was still two minutes before we reached the scene.

I'm not sure exactly how many capes were in the area, but the answer was a hell of a lot. I spied Glory Girl, someone else from New Wave, Miss Militia, Battery, and most of the Wards. And that was just on our side.

Regretfully we seemed to be evenly matched by Bakuda, Squealer, Skidmark, the entirety of the Undersiders, and of course Taylor Hebert.

It was chaos. There was gunfire cascading down the empty streets, flashes of light and fluorescent explosions in every corner. I couldn't grasp what was going on. Only one thing was certain:

There were tanks.

"There's _tanks?_ " I screamed. "Whose tanks are those? Please say ours."

" _They're not ours,"_ said Weld through the earpiece. _"Technically they're not tanks either since they don't have treads."_

That wasn't the point. "W-What do I do?"

"You're long range," Vista said. "Get up somewhere high."

And with that she jumped into the fray, supporting Clockblocker. I took her advice and teleported myself up to a nearby rooftop. The immediate threat was gone, but not by much. I held my bow over the edge and tried to pick a target.

Oh, who was I kidding. I tried to find Taylor.

From my vantage I could see the chaos a little more clearly. We were fighting over the span of a few blocks. Vista said the main conflict was between the villains, but now they'd mostly joined forces against _us._

Enemy-of-my-enemy sort of thing?

The tanks threw me though. I could see three of them, easily withstanding the beating the heroes tried to give them. Even when Miss Militia fired a rocket launcher at one of them it withstood.

" _They've got to be tinker tech,"_ Miss Militia said. _"Squealer. She's the only vehicle tinker."_

" _Not quite."_ That was the voice of Calvert. _"There's also Bakuda. Squealer and Bakuda working together easily produces something of that caliber."_

That made sense. A bomb expert and a vehicle expert? It practically screams "make a tank." Which wasn't good for us if even Miss Militia's arms couldn't stop them. But on closer inspection—

"Miss Militia," I said. "The turning radius of that tank you hit is worse. The front left wheel is turning twenty degrees less than it was before. I think you damaged it."

" _Thank you for that."_

I focused my bow to cover Miss Militia as she pulled out a rocket launcher and tried again. No one tried to stop her as all the other villains were occupied. I still couldn't see Taylor.

As Miss Militia fired the tank also fired a canister from a silo on top. She ran out of the way, but when it hit the ground it exploded into a huge cloud of white smoke.

Miss Militia coughed. _"It's tear gas."_

The gas didn't reach me but it completely blocked my vision of the intersection. My arrows couldn't do anything against the tank, but I found who I was really looking for anyways.

Taylor was backed up against a wall with her wings plastered against it like artwork. One of them was torn around the edges and in her hand was a radio. I aimed my bow at Taylor and let it loose.

Like what I did with Hellhound, as the arrow flew past my finger I teleported it right in front of Taylor's head. It hit, as I knew it would.

"Fuck," I heard Taylor scream.

Then she turned to look right at me. The hatred in her eyes stopped me in my tracks.

Taylor extended her wings and launched herself towards me. I threw my head up and quickly found another perch to teleport to across the street. When Taylor landed on top of the building she spun around.

I wasn't well hidden. She found me within moments.

"Oh fuck you, Transistor." She shouted. The shot I gave her to the head didn't phase her at all. Taylor must be made of thicker stuff than Hellhound. She said something I couldn't hear before reaching behind her and pulling out a pistol. She aimed it at—

"Shit shit shit!"

I teleported to the furthest place in my line of sight, which was exactly 81.5 meters away from me. And, consequently, two stories in the air. Momentum was preserved through my teleportation which meant I couldn't negate fall damage.

But I could still teleport downwards, so I moved to the ground before gravity did its number on me.

"Hello," Grue said. And then there was blackness.

I tried to teleport away, but I couldn't see anything. I couldn't see anything at all. Then I felt someone grab my wrists and bind them with one of those twisty-tie things before shoving me to the ground. Dammit dammit dammit, I was completely vulnerable here.

"Help," I said into my headset. "Man down. Uh, man down. Or something. Just fucking help me." But the only response I got was static.

I'm going to die here. That's what's going to happen. Somebody is going to walk over and stab me in the face and I'll die. It would be that easy and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

I waited for the knife to come down, but it never did. Instead after God knows how long the veil of darkness lifted. Grue's field must have dampened sound because as soon as it lifted the sound of gunfire and explosions came roaring back in full force.

There wasn't anyone around. It was just me here bound and useless on the ground. Though that was easily fixable. I teleported the restraints away.

I was still alone and I didn't know which direction to run in. So instead I picked a building and teleported myself up on top of it. Convenient things, buildings are.

Someone else was up here. I didn't recognize the cape, but they were perched over the edge of the building like how I was when looking for a target. I didn't have a good grasp on who everyone was in this city, but I made sure I recognized the heroes. And this guy wasn't one of them.

Plus his top hat looked stupid. I pulled back my bow and fired into the back of his head. _Suck it, bitch._

The momentum threw him forward off the side of the building. Oops. I ran to the edge of the building as quick as I could and looked down. Lying on the pavement was Glory Girl.

What.

She looked disoriented, but then got up and continued fighting as if nothing had happened. I let out a breath. At least I didn't murder anybody. I watched Glory Girl fly into the air and meet up with Taylor in the sky. A few teleport hops got me closer, but I couldn't follow them into the air. I found myself standing on a building above Shadow Stalker. I jumped down next to her.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I thought Grue got ya," she replied. "Left you for dead."

"Gee thanks."

"The tanks are holding major control over the streets. The one you told Miss Militia she damaged? It decided tear gas was a little ineffective and switched to something a lot nastier. Capes are lying in the streets."

"They're dead?"

She shook her head. "Paralyzed."

We both ducked as a flurry of bullets traced across the wall behind us, ricocheting off and making a buzzing sound.

"Oh yeah," she shouted. "They're also using bullets now."

"Thanks for the fucking heads up." I teleported up and then spun around to move onto the top of the building. Sophia can find her own way out of that. I building hopped to survey the situation, but it was hard to make heads or tails of it. There was only one tank that I could see. The fighting spread out farther than just the few blocks.

"Can someone give me an update?" I asked into my headset. "I'm, uh, on fifth and market."

" _Combat's splintered,"_ Weld said.

I didn't know what that meant.

"Shadow Stalker, where did you go?" I asked.

" _I'm below you. Come get me."_

I looked over the edge of the building and saw Shadow Stalker in the street, staring at me. I moved down and moved her up to the top before returning. "So," I said. "What does splintering mean?"

"It means the objective is toast and all we're doing now is comparing how big our respective parahuman dicks are with one another."

"Beg pardon?"

" _Please don't phrase it like that."_ Weld said.

"It's true." Sophia gestured out towards the combat. Battery and someone from Empire Eighty-Eight, or whatever they called themselves now, were fighting. "They aren't even a part of this," Shadow Stalker explained. "The skinheads decided to join in because fuck if I know. Hebert already got what she came for."

"What she came for?"

"Territory," Sophia explained. "The tanks are patrolling. Look, one is about to—"

A loud explosion erupted a block away and both of us hit the ground, hiding behind the ledge on the end of the roof. _Jesus this is terrifying._

Sophia peeked over the edge and then pointed. I followed her finger and saw a cloud of green smoke where Battery and the Empire cape used to be.

"Hebert totally has control of this fight. That gas puts down anyone in range, and since there's a vulnerable hero in the streets we have to rescue them. That lets the villains fortify while we need to retreat and regroup."

A shrill laugh came from behind us. We both spun around and brought our weapons up. I'd never seen her before up close, but it was pretty obvious it was Bakuda. She had a string of grenades in her hand.

"What makes you think it's that well thought out?" She asked with a laugh. "I just wanted to scare the shit out of you all. It's not only a paralytic, you know, it causes total locked-in syndrome. The master said I couldn't kill anybody, but I can still have fun."

Bakuda swung a grenade around on her finger and tossed it out towards us. Sophia phased through the floor and I teleported to the building behind Bakuda. The bomb went off and created a bright blue light behind me.

One of those flashbang things? No, if it was Bakuda it was a lot worse.

" _Uh, Bakuda, fucking help please."_ I said into the earpiece. I readied an arrow, not bothering to fake-aim it. Bakuda already spotted me and a canister was in an arc overhead.

I opted to move out of the way instead of fire.

" _That's it,"_ Calvert said. _"I'm ordering a mass retreat. Regroup at HQ."_

Easier said than done. Bakuda looked quite intent on doing bad things to us. I had teleported behind her, but she picked up my tactics and spun to face me. I already released the arrow into her head. It impacted hard, but didn't slow her down.

She wasn't supposed to be resilient.

Then Shadow Stalker appeared and shot her in the eye.

"Ow fuck fuck," Bakuda screamed. "You bitch."

"Shadow Stalker, we're retreating." I said, teleporting to her. I moved us both away, and a few hops later were were ten blocks from where the combat was.

"Stop," Sophia said and pushed me away from her. "Don't do that without my permission."

"Sorry for saving your life."

She rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to run away I'd let you know."

I ignored her and teleported to the PRT on my own. She could walk if she was going to be like that. I must have been one of the first ones to arrive though because it was pretty desolate. Me, Vista, Weld and Armsmaster were the only capes.

Eventually Sophia, Battery and Velocity arrived.

"This is it," Armsmaster said. "The others are in the hospital awaiting treatment by Panacea. We lost today. Relax and go home, there will be a meeting tomorrow morning about what happened."

And that was the end of it. I took a long shower in the Ward locker room and sat at my desk, trying to throw off the adrenaline pumping through me. I was bruised and battered from moments I can't even remember. Nothing serious, but I decided to be safe and apply some rubbing alcohol and bandages to the cuts.

My perfect skin is long gone.

I thought about going back to the apartment, but after what happened I didn't want to. Instead I thought about the thin mints. Tattletale wanted me to go see Faultline. There was too much adrenaline pumping through me to go home.

Something was clear in my mind after today. The heroes are _far_ from the most powerful force in Brockton Bay. I should have done more research before joining them so readily.

At nine at night I found myself walking to the Palanquin. It wasn't a new experience for me—they carded, but with a moderate fake ID it was easy for me to get in. Villains ran the place after all, and I was cute.

The club wasn't as popular as it once was, but it was still busy. The bouncer didn't bother checking my ID.

There was typical dance music blasting on the speakers, but the dance floor itself was sparse. Most of the guests spent their time drinking at the bar. I navigated around the edge of the wall to the back. A heavy-set man in a suit was guarding a door.

He gave me a look that sent a shiver down my spine.

"I-I'm here to see Faultline," I squeaked.

"Busy."

Shot down immediately. I looked the much-taller-than-me man in the eyes while I thought of something to say. "Can you tell her that, well, that Tattletale sent me?"

The man raised an eyebrow and then excused himself into the back room. I looked back at the club, but no one was paying me any attention. The music switched tracks to something I hadn't heard before. I wasn't sure if it was a brand new artist or if I was out of touch.

"Okay." The man returned. "Come on."

I followed the man through a private lounge. There was some monstrous cape sitting on a large couch with a few women around him. He glanced up, then returned to the task at hand.

The bouncer led me to an office in the back, knocked on the door, and then opened it. Standing behind the desk was a woman in a welder's mask. As I entered, she leveled her pistol at me.

"So what does that whore want with me now?"


	16. Transistor 2-5

**Transistor 2.5**

Faultline's finger wasn't on the trigger. It rested against the side of the barrel. I kept my eyes on it, ready to move if it twitched a fraction of an inch.

By the time she got her finger in the trigger guard I could teleport behind her and place my hand on the gun. Then I could teleport back to where I am now, gun in hand, and turn the tables. It wouldn't take more than a second. Even if she immediately reacted I would be gone with the gun before she could hit me.

The instant she moved her finger for that trigger. But not before.

"I guess you two aren't on the best of terms, then." I said. My voice may have cracked while saying it.

"Not as such."

I heard the door close behind me, the bouncer leaving Faultline and me alone. A conversation at gunpoint is a new one for me, but at least it will be private.

"I'll ask again. Is she playing games or does she have something of value to contribute?"

"I—" Damn. I only met Tattletale for a minute and already she's causing me problems. This must be what Vista meant—if the villains fall apart, it will be Tattletale's fault. "I honestly don't know," I said. "My family moved into her territory recently and she gave us some food. It was nice, but there was a note for me slipped into a box of thin mints. It said 'Talk to Faultline yet?'"

Faultline didn't lower her gun. "Sounds like one of her games to me," she said. I inhaled sharply. "But," she continued, "you were chosen for a reason. What makes you so special, miss...?"

"Madison."

"Okay, Madison, what makes you so special Tattletale wanted us to speak?"

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. It's not that I didn't have any answer, I had several. I'm actually Transistor, the new Ward. I'm actually Taylor Hebert's bully and she's trying to kill me. But neither of those will help my position here.

Then again, the reason I'm here isn't clear either.

"It probably concerns Taylor Hebert," I said. I'm here in my civilian identity so I should protect Transistor right now. Madison Clements is already out in the open and what I've done is no secret.

"And what do you... oh." Faultline lowered the gun. She knew. "You must be insane for walking into this place," she said. "Taylor may not be part of my crew anymore, but she was still our friend. What makes you think I would help you? What makes you think I would even want to talk to you?"

" _Because,_ " I said sternly. "Taylor was a parahuman for months, had the power to do whatever she wanted with me and yet she didn't. Until a few weeks ago when she attacked me in my own home."

It's what didn't make sense. Why did she suddenly decide to come after me? Taylor Hebert, the Taylor that I knew, wasn't capable of that. She would find it embarrassing. She would think it's too mean. Taylor is too nice a person to want revenge.

That was who she was.

"Something happened to her, didn't it?" I asked.

Faultline faltered. After a moment she set her pistol down on her desk. "You're smarter than I imagined you," she said.

I'm not sure if that's a compliment. I'll let it slide.

"Something _did_ happen to her." Faultline held her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the desk. "The same thing that fucking happened to this entire city. The Nine got her. We had to fight them. Most of us escaped but she didn't. She was captured and we thought her dead. When she came back to us she said she could no longer be part of our crew."

She looked up at me.

"I don't know what they did to her. But the things she's doing now—what she did _today—_ isn't something the Taylor I knew would do."

My hand started shaking. The Slaughterhouse Nine.

If the Nine did something to her then there was no reason. There wasn't anything rational about why she attacked me. It wasn't governed by logic or strategy. Taylor was just a monster.

She wasn't even Taylor Hebert anymore, she was a monster created by the Nine. The only goal she had was to eat me.

"Run," Faultline said.

"Sorry?"

"If Taylor really is after you, then run. Run away from this city, Madison."

Run.

That word stayed in my mind the entire walk home. _Run._ Run away from it all. Except... it was easier to say it than to actually do it. My entire family was here and I would have to convince them first. We had nowhere to go. We had a house, but it wasn't sellable. Property values in Brockton Bay are sunk.

We couldn't afford to leave nor did we have family out of town. In some way we were trapped here.

I clenched my fist. Not to mention I didn't _want_ to leave. Like hell I'll let Taylor Hebert scare me out of town. I can teleport. She can't _touch_ me. Damn Faultline, putting fear in my head.

By the time I got home everyone but my dad was asleep. He was sitting in the dining room, sipping a cup of black tea. When I came in he got up and gave me a hug.

"Glad you're safe, Madi."

I returned it. "I'm sorry I'm so late. There's just... there's..." I don't even know what to say. "A lot happened today."

"I love you."

We broke the hug and I sat down across from him at the table. Our apartment was silent except for the occasional sip of my dad drinking his tea. I ended up making myself a cup too.

I stared into the tea.

"Hey dad."

"Yes?"

"You know the villain who attacked us, Taylor Hebert? I went to school with her. Back in Winslow."

"Oh. Is that why this all happened? Did something go on at school?"

I nodded. "I... bullied her. I think it's my fault this happened to us."

"Honey, it's not your fault." He paused. "Look at me." I rose my head, and he continued. "We all do things that are wrong. There's no way you could have known the consequences."

"But I did some really bad things," I said. "I may have even caused her to trigger and become a villain. I brought all of it on myself. And _you_ as well." My grip on the cup grew tighter.

My dad's response was simple. "We forgive you."

"But—"

"Madison, we knew."

I almost dropped the cup. "You knew... what?"

"We knew you bullied somebody. Do you really think your mother and I aren't paying attention? You're our daughter." My eyes went wide, but he kept talking. "You've been like that ever since you were a kid. You took charge and didn't let anybody else tell you what to do. Do you remember Anthony from fourth grade?"

"Y-Yes," I said. But I didn't think dad remembered. "He stole Miss Sunflower."

Miss Sunflower was a doll that I liked, and Anthony was the little bastard who stole her from me. I made him pay for it, but I didn't know my parents were aware of that. They hadn't said a word.

"He did," said dad. "But you didn't just lash out. You waited for months until his birthday party, remember? All the kids went to go play in the bouncy castle outside while you snuck up to his bedroom and broke every toy he owned. His parents yelled at us for hours, but no one could actually prove it was you."

"If you knew, why didn't you say anything? Shouldn't I have been scolded or punished for that?"

My dad actually smiled. He should be mad, not smiling. "We thought about it. Discussed it for hours. But you know how the rest of elementary school went for you, right?"

Of course. I was there. No one fucked with me ever again. Well, until junior high, when the game started all over again.

"Your mother and I decided you were going to be just fine. Maybe not a warm, kind soul, but we knew you'd succeed in whatever you tried at. I still believe it. Sorry if you wanted us to force you to be nicer, but I think you would have resented us for it."

Probably.

Damn.

"Thanks," I said. "I think I'm going to bed."

He wished me good night.

The next morning both my dad and I rushed off to our respective jobs, leaving mom and my brother home. With two incomes our situation might improve, though the Wards paid peanuts.

I'd like to say the job was worth the small salary, but seeing the director's face ruined any chance of that. Director Calvert looked absolutely disgusted with, well, everybody. Wards and Protectorate alike couldn't escape his admonishing gaze.

"You people disgust me," he said.

Called it.

"Everything was going along _fine,_ " he complained. "Yes, the city was controlled by villains, but they were _in control._ I can't stress how vital that was. As of yesterday, the entire docks all the way from Captain's hill to the graveyard suddenly switched hands. Trickster's, Grue's, and Genesis's territories are _gone._ "

He slammed his palms on the conference table.

"Are you idiots even trying? We had the entire Wards, Protectorate and even New Wave and yet still somehow _Taylor Hebert_ managed to sneak away with a third of the city? If you lot had just stayed out of it the Undersiders could have handled her themselves, but you just _had_ to step in. Suddenly it was villains versus heroes instead of villains on villains. What were you _thinking?"_

"Hey," Triumph said. "What did you expect us to do? Ignore the fight going on?"

" _Yes,"_ Calvert shouted. "Running in there without using your brain let Hebert steal a third of the city. And it's not that _she_ has it, it's that it exchanged hands at all. It'll set off a chain reaction. If it's really that easy for territory to swap then the Empire will regroup and try something. Or maybe Lung will decide he wants his gang back to full power. It doesn't matter, the status quo is completely disrupted."

I sat quietly, but couldn't help but admire Director Calvert. He stood in front of a room of the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate and Wards, a double-digit number of parahumans, and didn't bat an eye as he lectured them. Any person in here could easily go up and kill him in seconds, but instead they bowed their heads.

He owned them.

Whether it was intentional or not, Calvert was the director of this department. After Triumph's initial outburst there wasn't a peep as Calvert described the situation. The information he was describing was valuable, so no one could ignore it.

"The armor is tinkertech of Squealer's design," Calvert continued. "Transistor claimed they were damageable but we never got the chance to put that theory to the test. At the very least the paralytic agent they disperse is only temporary. It lasts about four to five hours. But that's long enough to take you out of a fight. Three of these armored cars seem to exist, who's driving them is unknown, but they are currently patrolling what is now Wingspan's territory."

I raised my hand. Calvert stared at me, as did the rest of the room.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Squealer's vehicles, Bakuda's bombs and Taylor's master ability sounds like the perfect recipe for a mechanized tinkertech army."

There were a few gaping mouths in the rest of the room, but Calvert kept a cool expression. "It's refreshing to see at least _someone_ in this building has a head on their shoulders." He addressed everyone again. "Transistor is absolutely right. Right now Wingspan has the necessary abilities to create an entire army. We're not dealing with some gang right now, we're dealing with an independent military organization in its infancy. If allowed to continue it can be devastating. Its soldiers perfectly loyal, its arms designed by parahuman tinkers and its goals completely unknown."

Judging by the looks on a lot of the others' faces, this thought just came to them. I didn't want to be so quick to call it pathetic but they really should have seen that earlier. I thought of it the _day_ Calvert had said Taylor, Squealer and Bakuda might be working together.

I just didn't think Taylor would go that route. But now it was believable.

"Right now I'm ordering Wingspan be our only priority. I do not want you going out on missions to capture other villains besides Wingspan or her minions. Until further notice this entire branch will be entirely devoted to her capture, and I've already put in a request for reinforcements. We're now under full master-stranger protocol and I will not hesitate to eject you from the PRT permanently if you disobey them. Questions?"

There were none.

"Then lastly I will now introduce a new Ward. I hope her recruitment highlights how serious of a threat I consider Wingspan." He turned to a guard outside. "Let her in."

I didn't have long to wonder who the new hero was before Tattletale walked in.

"This is absurd," Armsmaster exclaimed. "Tattletale is the worst person you could have brought into this building."

"I understand your concern, Armsmaster, but I assure you this is necessary." Calvert slammed his fist on the table.

Oh my.

It's a funny thing about lying. When we try to act emotional when we're not, we tend to get the timing off. It's hard to do it properly since we don't self-reflect when we're _actually_ emotional. Most of the idiots around this table probably don't know...

...wait, doesn't Armsmaster have a lie detector?

"Why so mad?" Tattletale asked. Her smile was ruthless. "Sure, I took your city away, but I'll give it back. I only played with it a little bit."

"She can't be a Ward," Vista said standing up. "She'll just steal all the information she can and become a villain again. It's a con. That's the kind of horrible person she is."

"That hurts," Tattletale lied.

" _Frankly,"_ Calvert said loudly, "I don't care about your concerns. You've lost the right to have them after screwing up so badly yesterday. If you don't want to work with her then put your resignation letter on my desk. But don't expect to ever get an offer back into the program if you change your mind."

The room was in a silent shock. Not even Tattletale broke the silence.

"I thought so," Calvert said. "I've left missions with your team leaders, get to work."

The meeting was adjourned. Calvert left first, leaving everyone else in an awkward silence. It was that sort of awkwardness after watching a friend get lectured by their parents. Some odd mix of guilt and sympathetic embarrassment.

"So, is one of you going to show me to my locker?" Tattletale asked.

Not one Ward addressed her or even looked at her as they left. Tattletale just stood by the wall smiling as they left. I didn't get up from my seat and eventually it was just the two of us.

"I spoke with Faultline," I said once we were alone.

Tattletale took it as her cue to take a seat across from me. "Did you find it illuminating?"

"She called you a whore and then stuck a gun in my face."

"Sounds like her. You shouldn't have dropped my name."

"No duh." I leaned back and stared into her masked eyes. "She also told me Wingspan is a creation of the Nine."

Tattletale softly nodded. "My power isn't giving me much on it, or at least not much I can trust, but it's pretty clear they did something to Taylor. She was captured by them, and then _let go._ The Nine doesn't let people go."

"Shouldn't we take this up with the director?" I asked.

There was a pause before Tattletale responded. "That's interesting," she said. "You respect him?"

"Apparently so." I had thought about this all wrong. I looked for the leader of the social group of the Wards, but there wasn't one. Weld was the technical leader, but he didn't have control of the group as a whole. But director Calvert _did._ He was the actual leader of the PRT.

And he was the one I needed to ally myself with. Not Sophia, or Clockblocker, or Weld, or Armsmaster. It was Calvert who I needed to stand behind. Calvert was my new Emma.

If he was the type of person to have sex with a minor, it would be easy.

"That's a bad avenue to go down," Tattletale said. "Even if he did that, he's the sort of person who would throw you out on the street after. Trust me, Calvert isn't someone so easily manipulable."

It was my turn to smile. "Seems you're the one with history. Your recruitment wasn't so coincidental, was it?"

"Oh you're going to be fun. You didn't even flinch at my mind-reading."

I was going to respond but Tattletale suddenly stood up.

"Come on, let's go, I really do want to see my locker. I'm Ward now."

She didn't get long to admire her new workspace before Weld dragged us away for a mission. He took Tattletale's recruitment with stride, though he was the only one. The rest of the team wasn't pleased in the slightest. Not even Sophia.

The mission was to try to destroy one of Taylor's tanks.

The team was me, Tattletale, Kid Win and Weld. The other Wards were with Armsmaster and Velocity, while the Protectorate made up a third team. Three tanks, three teams. Ideally we'd destroy them and take control over Taylor's new-found territory. The idea being she hasn't had time to fortify yet.

Tattletale and I were purely support while Kid Win would provide all of the actual firepower. The tanks were _far_ above my weight limit for teleporting, but I provided mobility.

I don't know what Tattletale supplied. Witty remarks, I suppose.

" _Everyone in position?"_ Weld asked. He was in an alley, Tattletale on the roof and Kid Win and I in the second story of an abandoned building looking out the window. The tanks had irregular routes, but they patrolled the same basic districts. It would just be a matter of time until one rolled by.

The attacks were going to be coordinated with our team being the primary. It was decided Kid Win had the highest likelihood of being able to do serious damage.

We had to wait longer than I liked. It started to get on my nerves. Kid Win pulled out a tissue and started wiping some of the dirt off his turret.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Cleaning it."

"You realize unless you kill the tank in one shot it's going to immediately return fire, right? I'll get us both out of here but your toy is going to be decimated."

"Shut up."

I rolled my eyes. Whatever you say, Kid Win.

" _Let me ask you folks a question while we're waiting,"_ Tattletale said. _"I would have thought you'd be all over invading my now-vacant territory. I controlled a chunk of downtown you know. Instead we're smashing cars."_

"Grue probably already took over it," I said. "You arranged that ahead of time, didn't you?"

There was an audible sigh over the radio. _"Transistor, seriously. I'm trying to play with the Wards a little bit, can't you lay off?"_

"You could at least pretend to act like a Ward," Kid Win said. This was good. I could repair my standing in the Wards by using Tattletale as our mutual enemy.

" _That's no fun."_

 _Taylor just hurry up and have your tank drive over here._ It was mid-day so she was probably asleep. All the data that's been collected on her said she's nocturnal and photosensitive, so I doubt we'd actually fight her now.

I tapped my finger on the windowsill. It's still possible a parahuman was driving the tank. Squealer or Skidmark seemed most likely. Or someone else entirely. If it was me I'd put a regular person in charge of driving it so the parahumans could act on their own accord.

" _It's coming,"_ Weld said. He had the best vantage.

Kid Win readied his beam turret or whatever it was. I eyed my teleportation target, the roof of the building across the street. I couldn't see what was going on in the streets so I prepared myself to move as soon as the turret fired.

I could hear the tank rolling down the street.

" _Kid Win, fire when ready."_

A few seconds later the turret lit up and a bright orange beam shot out of it down into the street. I heard the screeching of metal as I put my hand on Kid Win's back and moved us to the other building. As soon as we landed I moved us again and again, putting us out of any immediate danger.

"Hey, did it work?"

" _Affirmative,"_ Weld said. _"The tank looks completely—"_

There was a flash of blue light, and then it was night.

Kid Win and I spun around. It was completely dark and the moon was out. It had immediately become the middle of the night.

"What the hell just happened?" I yelled.

" _I, I don't know."_

" _It's eleven-thirty,"_ Tattletale said. _"It was a bomb. When you blew up the tank, a time-stop bomb went off. It's nearly twelve hours later."_

That's bad.

Really bad, because if all three of the teams took out the tanks and all three tanks exploded, it would mean that every hero in the city was out of commission for half a day. The city was entirely vulnerable.

 _And it already happened._

We could have lost everything. Hours ago.

" _Get out of here. Get out of here now,"_ said Tattletale.

I reacted on instinct and teleported in a random direction and kept teleporting in that direction. I moved down the street. Three seconds later I heard the sound of an explosion and the hissing of gas. I dared to look behind me.

Green gas. That paralytic. It engulfed the entire neighborhood and was spreading fast. I continued to move away from it. With a teleport every second I was moving at about eighty meters per second, which was insanely fast. I outpaced the spread of the gas easily and stopped to rest when I felt I had gone far enough.

I could see the huge cloud in the distance.

Wait.

I left Kid Win there.

Fuck.

" _Transistor, is that you?"_

"Vista?" It sounded like her voice.

" _Yeah. Are you alright? The others?"_

"I'm fine. The others, uh." I looked at the huge cloud. "I think they're in trouble. That paralytic gas is all over where they were."

" _It doesn't seem to affect me,"_ Weld said. _"Tattletale and Kid Win aren't responding."_

" _This is Armsmaster, regroup at the boardwalk."_

Vista and Armsmaster were already there when I arrived. Most of the others arrived after. It seemed like everyone was alright other than our group.

"Can someone explain what happened?" I asked.

"We suspect that a self-destruct bomb went off when you destroyed the armor," Armsmaster explained. "It froze time in a five-block radius. We weren't sure if it was temporary or permanent, but we halted the execution of the other teams once we realized what happened."

I let out a breath. "So we didn't lose everyone."

Armsmaster nodded. "We didn't. Though Wingspan still controls a majority of the docks we've been patrolling around the time-stopped area. It was completely impossible to enter until now. But now we can't because of the paralytic."

I looked back to where the incident was. The cloud had mostly dispersed but that didn't mean it was safe to walk in. Despite the fact that Kid Win and Tattletale were at Taylor's mercy, the order to move in wasn't given.

We couldn't risk losing more people. I understood that, but it wasn't heroic.

I stared up at the night sky. It was unbelievable. I lost an entire day. It was kind of like time traveling into the future, except not fun. It felt more like some part of me just died.

" _They're gone,_ " Weld said. _"I can't find Kid Win or Tattletale."_

"Weld, get back here." Armsmaster said.

" _I think I saw Wingspan take them away, but maybe I'm just deluding myself. I can't be certain."_

Armsmaster repeated himself. By the time it was deemed safe to enter we only confirmed what Weld had already said. Tattletale and Kid Win's bodies were gone.

"I hope they're alright," Vista said. Her voice cracked.

Shadow Stalker, on the other hand, slapped me on the back with a laugh. "Good show, Transistor." She said. "Stopped in time, blanketed in toxic gas, and you come out just fine."

I looked around. Everyone else was preoccupied with their own stuff at the moment. "Yeah," I said quietly. "But I completely fucked over Kid Win to get away."

"That's his problem," Shadow Stalker said. "Relying on help isn't a sure thing. The idiot should have known that and made his own escape."

 _Ruthless as ever, Sophia._

We hung out and waited for orders, but nobody had any idea what to do. The mission was at least partly successful in that we learned the tanks _could_ be destroyed. There was just a rough price of doing so.

Several people debated about whether to organize a search party for the missing heroes—if Tattletale could be called such a thing—or to write them off as hostile under master-stranger protocol.

It was a debate between emotion and logic.

" _Get back to the PRT headquarters. Now."_ The voice was the director's. _"Wingspan's attacking."_

And just like that the debate was settled. Every hero in Brockton Bay converged on the headquarters of the PRT building. Just because the heroes were out didn't mean it was empty. There were tons of PRT agents in there.

As per my ability I was one of the first to arrive along with Velocity and Vista. Armsmaster came next with Miss Militia on his bike.

Taylor Hebert was standing at the top of the stairs to the PRT building, resting her hands on the handle of a metal suitcase. She smiled. "You guys are quick on the uptake," she said. "I just got here a minute ago."

No one dared approach. Whatever was in that suitcase could be devastating. Even if it was just another time-stop bomb it would be bad. But she's not the type to suicide herself, so it's not that. It's something worse.

"Wingspan," Armsmaster said. "What do you want?"

"A pardon would be nice," she said.

"Don't joke."

She fingered the handle of the suitcase. "I wasn't, but that's fine." Every movement she made caused tension. Every hero had their weapons trained on her but it didn't phase her. "I've honestly been asleep until just a little while ago. I hear some crazy stuff went down. You even destroyed one of the... well, Squealer calls them Herofuckers, but I think I'll just stick to 'rover.' How'd you like their surprise ending?"

"This is serious, Wingspan." Armsmaster gripped his lance and slammed the butt of it on the ground. "That sort of device, even if temporary, isn't something we can ignore."

"The time-stopping, you mean? If Clockblocker can do it I don't see why—"

"Where's Kid Win?" Vista screamed. "What'd you do with him?"

I looked at Vista. I couldn't tell because of the darkness and her mask, but she sounded like she was crying. If Taylor picked up on it she didn't care. All she did was shrug.

"He's fine," she said. "I found him lying on top of a roof completely paralyzed. Not a good place to be so I brought him home to keep him safe." She showed her teeth. "I'm sure he'll be back in fighting shape tomorrow."

On her side, that is.

"Anyways, I'm not really the star tonight," Taylor said. "It's Bakuda. She's a genius, you know. I thought she was just some crazy bitch, but with some direction and motivation she's amazing. The ideas she has..." Taylor shook her head. "You'll flip when you see them."

That did it. The heroes were properly frightened now. It wasn't anything they said or did, but just by being in the same line as them I could sense it.

Everyone except Sophia.

She was excited. She was _really_ excited. She was ready to try something, but the Sophia I knew wouldn't be that stupid.

"Is this a threat?" Armsmaster asked. "Blackmail? Extortion?"

"No. I've decided to take things I want, rather than rely on others being generous." Taylor glanced at me when she said that. I didn't see the relevance. "I suppose more than anything you can call this a formal declaration of war."

So she knew. It would be stupid to think she didn't, but she was fully aware of what her ability afforded her. A well-equipped army. And worse, she was fully intent on using it.

A few trigger fingers were getting anxious on our side.

"What do you mean by that?"

It was subtle, but I saw Taylor's wings flex. I'm not sure what it meant, but it was a tell of _some_ kind. "Well," she said. "You attacked one of my forces, so I decided to come here and attack yours. But you've already cornered me, so now I'm at a loss."

She didn't act very cornered at all.

The heroes waited for her to make a move. For Taylor to do something aggressive and give them an excuse to start fighting. But instead, Armsmaster tried to talk her down.

"We need to put this conversation off," he said.

Or, uh, I _thought_ he was trying to talk her down. But that wasn't a negotiation tactic.

"Excuse me?" Taylor asked. Her smiled was gone. "You think you can just _put me off?_ "

"Behemoth is in New Dehli."


	17. Transistor 2-6

**Transistor 2.6**

"What?"

"Behemoth is in New Dehli. Or he _will_ be in about twenty minutes. Our early warning system is getting better."

The silence blanketed everyone. The tense air and hesitation changed instantly to something worse. It turned to a crippling fear.

No one could move. We were still at a standstill with Taylor.

"Wingspan, this is more—"

"What..." Taylor looked at the ground. "What time is it in New Dehli?"

Armsmaster shifted his stance. "Noon."

It took a second for Taylor to respond. "Then go," she said. "Go be heroes. You're right, I'll hold off." She unfolded her wings. Their span made her way more intimidating. She should always have them open. "I'd appreciate not shooting me in the back as I leave."

And she shot into the air and was gone, her suitcase going with her.

But her departure was only filled by a worse situation. Everyone started talking at once about how we're going to New Dehli, what's going to happen and how to fight against Behemoth. I couldn't keep track of any of it. It felt like the world was moving without me.

I took a few steps back. No one paid attention to me.

So I vanished.

I didn't join the Wards out of a sense of nobility or honor. I didn't want to help people or save the world. The only reason the Wards got me was because I needed protection from Taylor. That and any other path would be ridiculous and illegal. But loyalty and self-sacrifice was not something I had to offer them.

They protected me, not the other way around.

I turned off my phone and went home. Socially I knew the consequences. Everyone would have gone through something rough and when they return I wouldn't be part of it. I'd be even more of an outcast. Probably permanently.

Except it wasn't a "when" they return, it was an " _if."_ I'm not putting having friends above my own life. The statistics were _one in four._

Which is why I fled back to my family.

I was still in costume and my street clothes were back at the PRT, so I'd have to be sneaky about this. Instead of going in through the front door I'd find somewhere I could see the window. It was dark but I knew exactly how far it was from our apartment to the hallway to the stairwell. It was easy to count the windows and get the right room.

I moved into the dark living room of the apartment when I realized that a light was on in the dining area. I turned around a corner to see my dad sitting there again, reading a book. He jumped when he saw me.

"H-Hi," I said taking off my mask. "I couldn't really use the door. Are you always going to wait up for me?"

"Every night. You want to get changed?"

I nodded and went to my room. Alex was sleeping soundly so I quietly grabbed a comfortable shirt and shorts. It's not like I was going out again today. Night.

I sat at the table with my dad after I was dressed. "I probably won't go to sleep for awhile," I said. "I kind of spent the whole day frozen in time."

Dad coughed. "W-What? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. But it's scary, I really was in danger. Completely vulnerable."

He stood up and hugged me. No words, just a tight hug. I rested my head against his shoulders.

"There's an Endbringer again," I said. "In New Dehli. I came back here instead of going."

"Good."

That's all he said, but it's all he had to. I grabbed the radio and tuned it to a station that was talking about the latest attack. We didn't bother waking up the others. The sad truth was these tragedies happened regularly and they weren't interesting anymore.

Though now it's a little closer to home.

The radio announcer didn't have much to say. All they did was answer calls and repeat the phrase "our prayers are with the heroes." Then they talked about how Behemoth was the hero-killer and how it had the highest fatality rate of all three Endbringers.

Stupid Endbringers.

Eventually my dad went to bed, the radio announcers having no more clue about what's going on than I did. I sat on the couch and stared at the blank wall where a TV would go if we had cable. Instead I was alone with my thoughts.

"If I was Taylor," I whispered to myself. "I would be taking advantage of this."

Everyone leaves and Taylor has an empty city waiting to be conquered. She should take advantage of it. If she was some monster created by the Nine then 'Wingspan' shouldn't even care about an Endbringer attack. It's certainly possible that she had been lying to everyone, but I didn't think so. It sounded earnest.

It's strange.

Strange enough to be on my guard in case she _does_ take advantage of it. She has Tattletale and Kid Win, which means she has Tattletale's information. That's—

 _Wait._

 _Wait wait wait._

I shot up from the couch. If she has Tattletale then she has Tattletale's information. If she has Tattletale's information, she has—

She has—

—everything.

Tattletale knows who I am. She knows where I live. Though she didn't say it I'm sure she knows the identity of all the Wards. She knows about the Undersiders' game plan and the Travelers as well. She has a relationship with Calvert and was present for the PRT strategy meeting. She knows everything.

And if she tells Taylor, this city can fall apart in an instant.

My hands started shaking. She won.

Taylor already won. That's why she surrendered so easily. Because she _already won._ We were just too stupid to notice it.

"Fuck!"

There has to be something I can do. The Endbringer fight would only keep the heroes away for a few hours. I don't need to stop Taylor or save her prisoners or anything so noble. I just need to keep her away from Tattletale.

It wasn't too late. The paralytic lasted four to six hours according to Calvert. That gives me three hours before her mouth starts working again. Three hours until Tattletale abides by her namesake and Taylor Hebert wins.

I left the apartment.

I'm not sure what I could do, but I headed into Taylor's territory. It stretched from the Docks to Captain's Hill and ate up a third of the city. I hadn't a clue where to look for Tattletale or Kid Win. The first thing that came to mind was to try Taylor's house, but I didn't actually know where she lived.

The streets were desolate. Brockton Bay was never a big night city but there was usually _somebody_ driving a car. At least it was dry though. I didn't have to bring an umbrella.

Teleportation let me move around Taylor's territory with ease, but the problem quickly became apparent. I had no direction. I could be standing right on top of Taylor's lair for all I knew. Every building looked the same. Every street a copy of the last.

I heard the engine of a car. I teleported into an alley and hid. The car was a black pickup not running its lights. It rolled through the street at a slow, twenty-two mile per hour pace.

A patrol.

I held my breath until I heard the engine fade away into the distance. Maybe it wasn't necessarily a patrol. It could easily be someone whose headlights broke and are trying to drive safely. But I'm not going to take chances.

"You're an idiot," I whispered to myself.

I should have followed it. The pickup might have led somewhere interesting. It would have, at the very least, been better than what I was currently doing: wandering around aimlessly.

Time was running out. I moved up to the tops of the buildings and hopped around. It improved my mobility and visibility, but in the darkness of night I could hardly see anyways.

I could have sworn this area used to have streetlights.

Another patrol truck drove by sooner than I expected. Or it could have been the same one. It had no lights whatsoever, not even brake lights. _No one's_ car has all their lights break.

I watched the pickup from the roof of some office building. I could make out the outlines of things and that was enough to tell the car was fluctuating its speed between eighteen and twenty-two miles per hour. Someone was behind the wheel with their foot on the accelerator.

The skill in how the truck was driven and how it took corners made it clear the person inside had no trouble seeing. It could have been night vision goggles. Or something else.

But after following the truck for half an hour, it repeated the same loop. This wasn't getting anywhere.

Time was running out. I had to silence Tattletale before she told Taylor anything. If she's allowed to speak then it's all over. My entire family will be in danger.

No one is here to save me. Behemoth is making sure of that. In a few hours Taylor will learn where we live. And she can attack us indiscriminately.

"Fuck me, I can't believe I'm going to do this."

I teleported onto the hood of the truck. As predicted the driver hit the brakes, but I managed to hold on.

"Tell Taylor that Madison's here to see her," I said loudly.

There wasn't any response from the truck. The windows were tinted and I couldn't see inside, but there wasn't any response. I knelt there in silence, waiting.

I didn't have to wait long.

"Madison," she said.

I spun around to see her standing in the middle of the street, wings fully extended. She hadn't made a single sound as she landed. I slid off the truck and faced her, but kept a healthy distance between us.

She looked groomed. No makeup or anything like that, but her clothes were straight, her skin clean and her hair not a complete mess. "Are you already back from New Dehli?" She asked. "Feels early."

I shook my head. "I didn't go."

"Oh. That makes sense." Taylor fluttered her wings. "You must be crazy then to call me out with no heroes in the city. Decide to surrender?"

"Not a chance," I said coldly. "I want Tattletale back."

"Not Kid Win?"

I met her gaze. "No."

"That's cold. This is a tactical thing, right? Tattletale is invaluable, so me mastering her would be bad. Kid Win, on the other hand, is relatively insignificant."

That was the truth of it. Perhaps I wouldn't say it to anyone's face so bluntly, but it was the exact truth. Kid Win didn't really matter. It was Tattletale who mattered and Tattletale who I needed to keep Taylor away from.

"Well, I'd rather have you," Taylor said. A smile crept up her face but all I could see were her eyes. It was like they were glowing. "Does that sound fair? I'll trade Tattletale for you."

"No."

She shrugged. "Fair enough, it was stupid of me to suggest it. If you want to feed me one of the Wards instead—Sophia, maybe—when they get back, I'll consider it."

That was also a problem. By the time the Wards got back the paralytic would wear off and Taylor could have already extracted who knows how much information out of Tattletale. I needed her _now._ Not in a few hours, not in a day or two. _Now._

"No," I said. "I want her now."

Taylor gave me an odd look. I couldn't detect what it was. "You're..." Taylor trailed off before regrouping. "You're a clever person. I didn't know that about you, I thought you were just a mean, stuck-up bitch."

"We never exactly bonded."

"Right." Taylor slipped her hands into her pockets and looked up. I didn't follow her gaze in case it was a trick to throw me off my guard. "There is something you can do for me, Madison, and you can do it right now."

She reached for a radio attached to a belt on her waist. "Emma," she said. "Bring me Tattletale. And tell Bakuda to bring the suitcase."

" _Right away, master."_ She exclaimed.

We stood there while Taylor's minions did her bidding. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I want you to plant Bakuda's suitcase in the basement of the PRT building. Somewhere where no one will find it for at least a week. This is the best opportunity, while everyone is distracted. Deliver it and I'll let Tattletale go."

"You want me to deliver a bomb to the PRT? During an Endbringer?"

"It's a special type of bomb, but yeah. Oh, and it goes without saying but don't tell anyone about it."

I waited for an "or else," but it never came. She just ended the sentence there. She spoke to me as if she was speaking to an ally. It was weird.

Eventually another truck drove up, Emma and Bakuda getting out of it. Bakuda grabbed her suitcase while Emma carried Tattletale's limp body in her arms.

"She's still paralyzed," Taylor explained. Thank god. "As for whether she's mastered or not already, well, you can figure that one out yourself."

She wasn't. If she was Taylor wouldn't have said anything at all. Tonight was working out in my favor.

Bakuda wheeled the suitcase over to Taylor. They whispered something to each other and Bakuda opened the case and fiddled with something I couldn't see before locking it up. She then wheeled it over to me before retreating.

I hadn't seen it earlier, but there was a red U-turn symbol etched on the side. _Unsure what to make of that._

"I'll be waiting here for your speedy return, Transistor." Taylor said.

I grabbed the suitcase, gave her one last stare and teleported wasn't enough time to think it through any longer than I had to.

Whatever this thing did was bad. Bad enough that placing it in the basement of the PRT would probably cripple its operations. But there wasn't an alternative. If Tattletale falls into Taylor's hands then she'll know everything. There will be no hiding anymore. Every night I'd have to be on guard. Sleeping would be impossible.

So I stood a few blocks away from the PRT building, case in hand. Despite the heroes being in New Dehli there were plenty of people around. None of them parahuman, but numerous PRT officers were at their stations.

It would be easy for me to walk in. Even if I got stares for not helping against Behemoth I was still _welcome._ But not with the suitcase. That would set off red flags galore.

Luckily the PRT had windows. It was a foolish design. While it _looked_ impressive, it was a major security flaw.

Because suddenly I was standing in a dark conference room, highly dangerous tinker-tech bomb in tow. The hall light was on as well as a few office lights, but it was fairly dead. I suspect most of the agents patrolled the first floor rather than the offices upstairs.

I needed to get down to the basement.

Leaving the case for a moment, I crawled up against the glass panels and peered down the hall in both directions. I didn't see anyone, so I grabbed the case and teleported there.

I had to let my eyes adjust to the light.

Peering around the corner revealed another empty hall with a stairwell on the end. I moved towards it, leaned the suitcase against the side of the wall and opened the door as casually as I could muster. No one on the other side.

Moving down the stairwell was easy enough. My ability was _really_ useful for infiltration, apparently. I could move around the entire building with ease.

Making it to the basement was easy, but I wasn't sure where to actually hide this thing. It was large and heavy. The basement was full of industrial stuff I didn't understand and had no idea if got regular service. The last thing I wanted to do was place the case somewhere that would be noticeable.

Somewhere my ability could reach but normal people couldn't would be ideal.

But I could find no such place. The best I could do was a maintenance closet that had spiderwebs on the door handle. I shoved the suitcase into the corner and threw a nearby tarp over it.

Good enough for Taylor Hebert.

Leaving the PRT was as easy as it was getting in. It was disconcerting how simple it was. For somewhere that's supposed to be defensible against parahumans it's pretty vulnerable. Though maybe that had something to do with Behemoth.

I hopped back through the city to that one intersection. The name had escaped me, but my ability picked up the slack and let me know exactly how to get there. Even though I didn't consciously keep track of it, I knew the exact distances and path I took between it and the PRT.

Taylor and Emma were sitting in the bed of a pickup. Taylor was playing with Emma's hair. They both turned to stare at me as I appeared back in the street.

"It's done," I said.

Taylor nodded. "We put a tracker in it. You actually did it, didn't you?"

"I said I would," I cursed. "So hold up your end of our deal."

Emma hopped out of the truck and went around to the passenger-side seat. She pulled Tattletale's body out and cradled it.

"Take her," Taylor said.

I tried to take Tattletale out of Emma's arms, but she was too heavy and I dropped her onto the ground. I swore under my breath.

"She's still conscious, you know." Taylor said. "Don't just manhandle her."

When it was clear Tattletale wasn't somebody I could lift, I decided to make use of my teleportation. I moved us both away without saying goodbye to Taylor. She'll have to get over it.

I moved us in a random direction out of Taylor's territory and into Tattletale's. Or, at least what used to be hers. She still wasn't able to move. If she was she would have said something by now. But I took a break once we were safe.

I did it.

A breath escaped my lungs as a huge amount of tension fell away. I'd escaped. If I had stayed home tonight Taylor would have mastered Tattletale and had information on everything. In some ways Tattletale held the keys to the city. Whoever had her on their side knew the enemy's plan. Only Tattletale knew what was really going on.

Tattletale was the key to the city.

I looked at her. She was staring at me.

"It should wear off relatively soon," I said.

The analogy felt wrong. Tattletale was Taylor's key, but that's not what she was to me. She was something else. With her on my side I could stay a step ahead of Taylor. While Tattletale wasn't on anyone's side but her own, if her interests aligned with mine I could stay out of Taylor's grasp. As long as Tattletale was a _Ward,_ then the _city_ could stay out of Taylor's grasp.

It made perfect sense why Calvert took her on. Information is king. If I had known where Taylor was keeping her prisoner. If we knew where Squealer built and serviced those tanks. If we knew this, if we knew that, if we knew all the things we could save lives and defeat villains.

"No wonder you took over the city," I said. "It was probably child's play for you. Why'd you give it up?"

Tattletale didn't speak.

On the other hand, if she was still in Taylor's grasp then _Taylor_ would have all that information. She'd know the PRT's entire strategy, our identities and our weaknesses. We'd be sitting ducks. Tattletale was the single person whose allegiance determined who survived.

 _What is Tattletale to me?_

A potential weapon, but one that could backfire. One that could backfire horribly and the likelihood wasn't even that rare. With Taylor's master ability, getting captured meant losing her forever. It was irreversible. If Taylor mastered Tattletale that was the end. The absolute end.

She'd know everything and would continue to know everything. I couldn't hide.

My chest tightened.

Tattletale can't be allowed to be mastered by Taylor. Absolutely cannot be allowed, ever. As soon as it happens, Taylor can find me wherever I might be hiding and do what she wants. If I know she's coming I can teleport away, but she could go after my family. Or if I'm asleep she could just come after me then.

I took a deep breath and held Tattletale's hand. Her eyes still stared at me, but I couldn't read the expression on her face. The paralytic.

She was dangerous. Tattletale was too dangerous to me. Her potential usefulness didn't compare to the harm she could bring. Protect myself. Protect my family. Protect my friends. That's the order.

I took another breath.

And another.

And teleported Tattletale eighty-one-point-five meters into the air.


	18. Transistor 2-7

**Transistor 2.7**

I didn't sleep well.

It would be a lie to say it was because my schedule was twelve hours off, but what did keep me up wasn't _what_ I had done. I had simply teleported her. What kept me up was that I had heard her fall. And then heard her land.

I kept reliving the sound. It had been mostly a thump with a little splat and a crack. Over and over and over again. I tried to push it out of my mind and focus on other things, but all the other things were equally terrible.

When I finally got out of bed I would have to face the heroes that I abandoned to Behemoth. I would be outcast forever. Nothing I could do would make me a _real_ Ward. Not after deserting them. They would perceive it as abandonment in their time of need. And they weren't wrong.

I rolled around in my sheets.

The strategy I was going to push with was honesty. Honesty is an incredibly powerful tool when used correctly. I _was_ afraid of Behemoth. They wouldn't blame me for being scared. I could play it right and turn the anger into pity. I'd cry and instead of being angry they'd think me a coward. At best, they would understand.

 _Thump, splat._

I've only been a Ward for a month or so. It was a good plan. The only problem was the bomb in the basement.

It was a pretty big problem.

I looked at the clock on the night stand. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. With a grunt I heaved myself out of bed. The bomb problem was as of yet unsolved, but I shuffled into living room regardless.

"Good morning. You slept late." Mom said.

I nodded. "Long night. Dad at work?"

"Of course. Did you hear the news?"

"Behemoth struck, yeah. I didn't go."

"No." My mom shook her head. "Well, yes, but I meant that it died."

"It what?"

Behemoth...died? That can't be right, mom is probably just getting confused over something. I'd have to go find an actual news source. Or, well, I'm a Ward, so I can probably ask someone who was actually there.

"I'm going to make a few calls," I said yawning. I grabbed my phone and punched in Sophia's number.

" _We're sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have—"_

I hung up. That's... not good. Vista?

" _We're sorry, the number you have—"_

Uh oh. I tried my entire contact list of Wards but not one of them went through. That none of them worked was a small relief—maybe the phone service was down. I gave my mom a shrug, not sure what to do.

Staying here wasn't the right option, so I got dressed and prepared to go out. I also grabbed a duffel bag and stuffed my Transistor costume into it.

"Be safe, dear."

"I will."

The city looked the same as ever. If I hadn't known better I never would have guessed some terrible tragedy had just happened. Though according to my mom, Behemoth was dead. That's impossible.

But the local paper said otherwise. I grabbed one from a newsstand, the headline impossible to ignore.

 **Endbringer Behemoth Slain by Scion**

The first few paragraphs confirmed everything. The battle had concluded with Scion earnestly and honestly _killing_ Behemoth. Fifty years of Endbringer attacks and this was the first time one was killed. Actually killed.

Today would be remembered throughout history.

I forced myself to keep reading the article. Because I knew that somewhere would be the bad news. Behemoth was the hero killer. Statistically, somebody from this city died. Somebody I probably knew.

It was buried on page three. The local casualties list.

I almost cried.

 _Brockton Bay Protectorate: Miss Militia, Armsmaster, Triumph, Assault_

 _Brockton Bay Wards: Clockblocker, Browbeat, Weld._

 _New Wave: Lady Photon, Laserdream_

All of them. Dead.

It's just Missy and Sophia. They're the only Wards to come back. Five of them left last night and only two managed to come back home. And it was even worse for the Protectorate, We lost everyone but Velocity and Battery.

Five.

Including me, that's five. There's five heroes in this city.

 _I don't know what I'm supposed to do._ They couldn't be happy they killed Behemoth. They lost _everyone._ Going back would only make them furious. Even though I made the smart move and stayed home, they would hate me for not going through what they went through.

Sadly I couldn't help but notice most of the survivors were the movers. I might have been actually helpful. I wouldn't have been dead weight. I could have actually helped and maybe even saved someone. If I was there that list of casualties might be shorter.

I crumpled the newspaper. _Or I might be on it._

I tossed the paper into the garbage and headed to the PRT building. There were only five heroes in this city. We couldn't afford to let Taylor's bomb go off. I had to stop it. I couldn't reach anybody by phone, but I could make it to the actual building in a minute.

It took longer to find an alley to change into my costume than it did to actually make it across town to the PRT. I teleported up to the roof and went in through the top entrance, making my way down to the "cape floor."

But no one was there.

I rushed to the director's office, but it was also empty. There had to have been a deputy director or something but I didn't know who it was. The offices weren't labeled either and I didn't know who had the authority to actually do anything.

This was bad. I can understand the heroes not being here. There's only four of them and they're probably asleep after the Behemoth fight. But we're vulnerable right now. We're weak, vulnerable, and there's a _fucking bomb in the PRT._

I just want to scream it out loud for somebody to hear.

Taylor said there was a tracker on it. It will probably go off if I try to move it myself. All I really needed to do was get all of the people out of the building. There may not have been heroes in here, but there were plenty of PRT agents.

 _Oh. Wait._

I went back into the director's office and picked up his land line. There were three magic buttons that solved this problem.

" _911 what is your emergency?"_

"There's a bomb in the PRT building. It's made by Bakuda, you should evacuate."

I hung up the phone. That should do it.

And then I got the hell out of there. I perched myself on top of a roof a few blocks away. Hopefully any minute now there would be some sort of siren or alarm that would trigger and people would evacuate.

Instead, my phone started ringing. I didn't recognize the number. Not good.

"Hello?"

" _Hello Transistor. This is Dragon."_

"I don't know who that is. With a name like that you've got to be a cape."

" _Correct. I'm jointly a member of the Guild, the Protectorate and the PRT and regarded as the world's top tinker."_

"Good for you. And what does someone like that want with me?"

" _Eighty seconds ago a call was placed originating from a phone in the director's office of the PRT building to the local emergency dispatch service. The caller was you, Transistor. By protocol the operator notified the PRT office, but I intercepted that call. Can you confirm?"_

Shit. Deny or confirm, deny or confirm. "Yes," I said. "There's a bomb in the building."

I heard a fire alarm echo from the PRT building. It was loud even though I was a block away. _"You said it was of Bakuda's design. Do you know how dangerous it is? Recently there was a report of a time-stop bomb in Brockton Bay so another one of those has a high probability of being deployed."_

"I don't know anything else about it," I said.

" _Do you know where it's located? I've checked the cameras but no suspicious device is visible."_

"The PRT has cameras?"

" _Yes. With master-stranger protocols in effect at that location they're on twenty-four seven and constantly monitored. Resources were diverted for the Endbringer attack, but I'm searching through past recordings now to check for suspicious activity."_

"The bomb is located in the basement, in an unused maintenance closet under a tarp." I admitted it outright. I'm busted, I'm so busted. There were cameras in the building. Of course it wasn't as easy as just slipping in and out. I must have been out of my mind last night.

 _Thump, splat._ I waited for the hammer to fall.

" _Thank you for the specific information. Hopefully we can get this situation resolved without any loss of life."_

There was a moment of silence over the phone. I wasn't sure if she had hung up on me or just didn't have anything to say. I was dead. A member of the Protectorate was about to find out I planted a bomb in the PRT. I was caught on camera.

I might have to run. I'd be on the run with both Taylor and the heroes after me. There wouldn't be anywhere to turn.

" _Transistor, are you still there?"_

"Yeah." Here it comes.

" _Regretfully, the video files seem to be corrupt for the past twenty-four hours. This is a shame, but easily attributed to the major energy event that occurred in New Dehli. Global repercussions are inevitable from such a thing. I thought you'd like to know."_

"Ah... alright."

Bull. Shit.

I don't know who this Dragon person is, but she's playing hard core. It was that phrase at the end. She "thought I'd like to know." There isn't any reason why I could possibly care unless there was something related to me on those tapes, and she knew it. Dragon saw what I did and covered it up.

Which meant she owned me.

" _Transistor, I'd like you to go on scene and act as a parahuman authority until further notice."_

I donned my costume and teleported back towards the PRT building. "I'm barely a Ward," I said.

" _I'm in contact with Director Calvert. He's en route. Local police will take care of crowd control and evacuation procedure."_

I appeared on the sidewalk across the street from the PRT building. A crowd of agents were outside and taking up defensible positions, ready to respond to a threat. It was unlikely anyone would attack right now so it must have been procedure.

Or maybe it was extremely likely. It's a perfect opportunity, after all.

Soon enough first responders arrived. A fleet of police cars encircled the neighborhood. _"Transistor, the police have set up command on the corner of fifth and Lord."_

It was only a block away. I made sure to visibly appear and stride towards the command center. They were in the process of setting everything up, jumbles of wires and devices rapidly being hooked into one another.

"Excuse me," I said. "Who's in charge?"

One of the officers pointed behind me. I turned around to see a man wearing a loose coat under a bullet proof vest. "Lieutenant Richardson," he said holding out his hand. I shook it firmly. "Dragon's explained the situation to us and her droid is already inside the building. Let's get you an earpiece—Mike, get the lady an earpiece."

Someone whose name was probably Mike ran over and handed me a headset. I put it on.

" _Hello again,"_ said Dragon though the earpiece. I closed my phone, hanging up the call. It was redundant now. _"Listen to the lieutenant until the director arrives."_

"Sure."

I stood around waiting to be instructed. There were a couple of monitors set up on a table. An image appeared, showing a camera moving through the PRT building. It was probably attached to Dragon's droid. It moved down the staircases and opened doors like a person. I wish I could see how it was doing that.

The droid made it to the basement but started going in the wrong direction.

"It's the other way," I said. "Seven meters forward, forty-five degree turn to the right, four-point-five meters, another forty-five degree turn and forward ten meters. The closet is on the left wall."

" _Thank you."_

The door opened on the monitor and I saw the blue tarp. "The tarp shouldn't be part of it, it can be removed."

I had put that there, after all. After a minute of staring at the tarp, the droid indeed removed it with a metal claw. I saw that on the screen. Beneath it was the metal suitcase with a U-turn sign painted on the front.

"That's it," I said.

" _Device located, beginning analysis."_

Several police officers and I anxiously watched the screen. We made a big enough racket that word surely got back to Taylor that the PRT was working on her little bomb. Sirens were blaring all over the district and large swaths of people were being evacuated. News vans would be here in minutes.

" _No radioactivity detected. No known explosive substance detected. Radiography determines device contains atypical wiring; high likelihood of tinker-tech origin. Radiowaves detected emanating from the device."_

"There's supposed to be a tracker in it," I said. "If it's moved it'll probably—"

" _No indication if device is armed. It will take a while to analyze the inner workings. Beginning three-dimensional scan."_

"Dragon," said the lieutenant. "I'd much rather know how big an area we have to evacuate. What's the blast radius on this thing?"

" _Unknown. I don't know what it does nor how big it does it in. Until that's determined I can't recommend controlled detonation."_

"Alright. We're going to secure a two-block radius around the PRT building for mandatory evac. Six blocks on optional evac." The lieutenant turned towards me. "Transistor, I'd like you to stand by in case of detonation. You'll be invaluable in search and rescue."

"Sure."

It didn't fly over my head that none of us have any idea what that bomb will do. It might not even be correct to call it a bomb.

" _There's no apparent aerosol dispersal,"_ Dragon said over the radio. _"There's a circular component that seems to be the explosive. I'm unsure what it does. Preliminary scans seem to indicate the device isn't designed to resist disarmament, but tinkertech is notoriously difficult to understand. There is an immense likelihood it's a bluff. It only appears to be safe to disarm."_

I stayed quiet and listened to Dragon talk about how she knew nothing at all. It probably wasn't meant to be found before it went off, but that didn't mean it's easily disarmed. Everyone here knew what they were doing a lot more than I did. My role is complete as far as I'm concerned.

But I couldn't leave. I was at Dragon's mercy.

A car pulled up and director Calvert got out of it. His first stop was to find the lieutenant, who was standing next to me looking at the monitor. Dragon's droid kept extending devices and sensors to no effect.

"I'm Director Calvert of the PRT, what's going on here?" He asked.

"Lieutenant Richardson," he said sternly. He wasn't happy at the director's arrival. "Dragon is analyzing the bomb. We've evacuated two blocks around the building."

Calvert nodded. "Don't worry, I won't challenge your authority on this. All the PRT is equipped to do is disarm the bomb. I'll leave everything else to you, lieutenant."

That was humble. Calvert stood next to me, adding quite a few people huddled around the monitor. I decided it's best I give them some room and stood off to the side.

Half the area had been evacuated so far. Cameras had been set up everywhere and the number of monitors and tables was growing. This entire intersection has been turned into command central and was swarming with cops and PRT agents alike.

So much for just a little suitcase. This wasn't even Taylor's power, this was Bakuda's. This might have happened regardless. Just one parahuman with one suitcase wound an entire city into action. Hundreds of people swarming, thousands running for their lives, and as for the other parahumans...

Well, it's just me, it seems.

"Director," I said. "Are the other heroes going to be here?"

"I've sent agents to their places of residence," he replied. "But only to inform them of the situation. They aren't strictly needed."

"Oh."

"That's not permission for you to leave. We need at least one hero here for this, if only for show."

"I understand."

I understood completely. The headquarters of the heroes is attacked and none of them showing up to defend it would not send a positive message. Despite not being useful, showing myself was proof that yes, we cared, and yes, we were "doing something about it."

Even if we weren't.

The tension didn't leave even after half an hour of standing out in the sun. Eventually umbrellas and canopies were brought out to shade the officers. News vans had arrived and reporters flocked around the barriers with the rest of the looky-loos.

" _I've determined a trigger,"_ Dragon said. _"There's an optical lattice clock that triggers an electromagnetic response after a certain number of—let's call them ticks. It seems to lead to some sort of battery. This construction is fascinating. But based on my analysis, the bomb is set to go off in exactly thirty-six hours, twelve minutes and eight seconds."_

Eleven thirty-one tomorrow night.

" _Eleven thirty-one exactly on the night of July twenty-eighth. It's entirely possible that there's a secondary trigger. Given that there's radio waves emanating from the device there's a chance that it can be remote triggered. Furthermore, I'm not willing to jam signals until I know it won't set off the device."_

That didn't make sense. Almost midnight was when it was set to go off, but it wasn't a good time to inflict collateral damage. The heroes would be on patrol at that time—or home, sleeping. None of them would be in the actual building. Most of the important people like Calvert would have gone home. The building would only be full of low-level employees.

Yes, the building might be leveled, but that was the extent of it. It wouldn't cripple the heroes' presence in the city at all. It didn't make sense for Taylor to set the bomb off to go then.

I looked around at the cops. It could be a distraction. It got everyone up in a buzz while Taylor went off and did nefarious things somewhere else.

Could be.

But if there was something she wanted done the Endbringer would have been the perfect distraction. She didn't need this additional one a day later.

Something else.

"Is there something significant about the twenty-eighth?" I asked into the headset. "Is it an anniversary of something?"

"Not officially," replied Calvert. "Do you mean for Wingspan specifically?"

" _Her family records don't indicate any significant events happening on July twenty-eighth."_

"Is it a monthly anniversary?" I asked. "Did anything happen last month or the month before?"

"Plenty," said Calvert. "Wingspan became a parahuman, joined Faultline's crew, committed crimes, got captured, broke out. But none of it on the twenty-eighth of any month."

I frowned. If the time was significant, it probably wasn't about the day. Taylor was the type of person who would line up the days and make sure she got them right. She wouldn't just get in the ballpark. People trying to make a point never did that. And Taylor was the type to make a point.

Well, when she wasn't clenching her jaw and waiting things out. That was her default.

On the rare occasion Taylor did try to resist our bullying, there was always that element of _teaching_ us something. She wanted us to realize what we were doing and how we were hurting her. Make us see the errors of our way by symmetric revenge.

It never worked.

But if Taylor wasn't Taylor anymore, and just a monster of the Nine, this could be a red herring. There could be something I'm missing entirely. "Maybe not the day," I said. "Maybe the time, or the place?"

"Well, the PRT building is no accident," Calvert said. "Wingspan has major issues with us, though to be honest I'm not entirely sure why."

"How does putting her in jail grab you?"

He shook his head, but then stopped. "Sure. I see your point, but it's not the anger of a criminal who was caught. She thought she was _unfairly_ caught."

"When was she caught?"

" _Nine-fifteen in the morning,"_ Dragon responded. _"And before you ask, she was broken out of prison at nine-thirty in the evening. We suspect she triggered at around ten PM. I've cycled through every major event in the past three months we know about her, but nothing has happened at eleven-thirty PM."_

I looked at the monitor. The image of the suitcase was still there, ticking away to something terrible. We had plenty of time, assuming Taylor didn't set it off early, but if it really _was_ significant then she wouldn't. If there was something significant about the twenty-eighth of July at eleven-thirty at night, it would never go off early.

Thirty-six hours was a lot to work with.

No. It only _felt_ like a lot. We only had this long because I didn't hesitate to tell someone. If I had delayed, spent hours thinking over my options or even slept on it for another day, that thirty-six hours would be in the single digits. And only two days after a devastating Endbringer attack she has a bomb go off in the PRT. That's not a long time at all. That's really, really fast.

Taylor didn't give them a moment of rest.

"You're on the right track," Calvert said. "If Wingspan's goal was collateral damage or to hurt the heroes, eleven-thirty wouldn't be the time to do it. Even if her goal was to hurt the command structure of the PRT, just blowing up the building wouldn't do it. She's making a statement."

Calvert had the same thoughts I did.

" _I've determined that there's an eighty-five percent probability that there won't be any ill effects from jamming radio signals around the device,"_ Dragon said. _"With authorization I'd like to proceed."_

Calvert told Dragon to hold off for now and started talking with the lieutenant and some of the other officers. A small frenzy was whipped up. Dragon was taking a step in the right direction of defusing the bomb, but not a large one.

"Negative, Dragon." Calvert said quickly. "Do not jam any signals."

" _For what reason? Jamming the signal would allow us to safely move the device to a more secure location."_

"It's not going to trigger before our thirty-six hours are up. Use the time we have to try to understand it, but don't intervene unless you're absolutely sure."

" _That's impossible with tinker-tech. I've already completed every diagnostic test the droid is capable of. My only recourse is to try to recreate the device part-by-part. I won't be able to replicate it perfectly, but it might gather some insight."_

"Then do it."

" _It will take time."_

"You have thirty six hours." Calvert turned to me. "Transistor, go get Vista. She's not answering her phone. If we do end up moving this thing, we're going to want her help."

I nodded. Calvert told me her address and I teleported away. She lived downtown in an apartment not that far away. She could probably hear the sirens. Her unit was a bit difficult to find and there were bars on the window, but otherwise it looked perfectly normal.

It occurred to me I was still in costume. _I shouldn't sabotage Missy's identity like that._ I kept moving a few blocks in the direction I was going before backtracking into an alley to change. With my ability I could change costumes in seconds. All I had to do was teleport the old clothes off and teleport the new ones on.

The apartment was still there as I walked back in my civvies. I rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

"Who is it?" Came Vista's voice.

"Your pal Madison," I said.

"Go away."

 _Nice_. I grabbed the knob to open the door but it was locked. "Missy, please let me in."

"No," she shouted. "I told you to go away."

My hand was still on the knob. It was locked, but that shouldn't stop me. The knob was connected to a metal plate screwed to the wood with metal inner workings. It's all metal, and the door is just wood, I don't see why I can't just—

The entire doorknob, lock, and plates all teleported into my other hand. The door, literally nothing left to keep it closed, slowly swung inside. I strode in and put the doorknob back where I'd found it, shutting the door behind me. "I'm coming in," I said.

I spun around the entryway into the living room and saw Vista on the couch. She looked up at me with puffy red eyes.

Hell.

"I hate you," she said.

"I know. You're going to hate me even more when I tell you we have work."

"I don't care," Vista said. "I'm not going."

"It's not really optional, there's a bomb in the PRT."

She froze. She hadn't known. Vista was clearly in distress. There were tissues lying on the couch and floor, her posture was slumped over, she was crying and the bags under her eyes led me to believe she hadn't gotten any sleep.

Vista sobbed.

"I-I can't... we just had an Endbringer..."

"Crime doesn't sleep."

"But it does," Vista protested. "The truce. Everyone takes a break after Endbringers."

I frowned. "You know, I've heard that said a few times now, but I don't get it. What exactly is this truce you keep going on about? Even Taylor talked about it, but no one ever told me anything."

"It's because the Endbringers are bad, everyone agrees not to fight during it. Villains who try to attack us during Endbringers go to the Birdcage."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. We gotta stick together for them, so we can't... we can't be doing whatever's happening right now. If we fight like this then we won't win against the Endbringers."

I shook my head. "No, I mean, all that happens is they get sent to the Birdcage? That means any villain who's _already_ expecting to be sent to the Birdcage has no reason to care. Which is most of them. If fucking _Canary_ can get sent there, then every villain can."

What a stupid truce. It only worked on people who had morals and standards. Which was the polar opposite of what villains were, not to mention the heroes. Sophia and I are heroes, after all, and I know our morals are not up to heroic standards.

Taylor would have seen the flaw right away, and with what she's done she can expect an express ticket to the Birdcage. It's not really strange that she's pulling this so—

"Wait."

"Huh?" Vista looked at me, but I ignored her and tapped the button on my earpiece.

"Calvert," I said.

" _Did you secure Vista?"_

"I'm here now, but listen. Taylor has no reason to respect the Endbringer truce, right? She's already going to the Birdcage if she's captured."

" _Yes, and?"_

"Then why is she waiting thirty-six hours? Why didn't she attack right after everyone left for India? She could own this city right now, but she held off until everyone came back."

There was a long pause on the other end. _"It's about the truce,"_ Calvert said. _"Wingspan is making a statement about the truce."_

"She has to be." I looked back at Vista and gave her a glare. "You guys fucked her, didn't you."

It wasn't a question.

" _I beg your pardon?"_

"This is just like Taylor. You guys fucked her after Leviathan, so she's trying to take poetic revenge on you. The bomb is going to go off forty-four hours after Behemoth struck. What happened exactly forty-four hours after Leviathan?"

Another long pause. This had to be it, this _had_ to be it.

I held my breath.

" _She was arrested,"_ Calvert finally said. _"Taylor Hebert was arrested two mornings after Leviathan struck, forty-four hours later."_

That's it. "She's giving you exactly as long as you gave her."

" _This worries me,"_ Calvert said. _"If that's her goal, then if we disarm the bomb she'll just try something else. Even if it's not the bomb, something is going to happen come tomorrow night."_

Even if we disarm the bomb Taylor will just replace it. I hadn't thought of that but it's absolutely true. And if we get in her way she might try something even more severe.

"Director... I hate to suggest this, but the devil you know..."

" _I know what you're thinking,"_ he said. _"Don't say it."_

It might be better to let the bomb go off.


	19. Transistor 2-8

**Transistor 2.8**

 **July 28, 2011. 5:34 PM**

"Dragon, where do we stand?" Calvert asked.

" _Replication hasn't gone well. There is only a thirty percent chance of a successful disarm. Analysis has indicated that the device will produce some sort of spacetime effect. The radius is bounded above by five hundred meters."_

Calvert wasn't surprised by this news. Apparently it was really hard for people to understand how tinker technology worked, so understanding the mechanism behind Bakuda's bomb was a crapshoot from the start. We should be happy we understood as much as we did.

"That's it then," Calvert said. "Begin removing critical hardware from the PRT building. Anything we can pull out of there is coming. Everything else is to be incinerated immediately."

I watched the robot pull away from the suitcase through its camera before the screen went black. I assumed it was to prevent us from seeing the classified materials the robot was going to handle.

It was a day later and the situation hadn't progressed. Only time had. According to Dragon's calculations it would take five hours to clear the PRT building of everything the heroes needed to relocate. Computers, tinker weapons, classified documents, and all that sort of stuff.

Without any progress on the bomb being defused, there was no choice but to let it go off.

"I hate this," Vista said darkly. "I can't believe we're letting her win."

The sun was low in the sky, but sunset hadn't started yet. There was still an air of late afternoon about it. Vista and I were here on shift until the bomb went off while the others were on patrol around the city.

We were taking residence in the middle of the street.

"We lost the minute Wingspan got the bomb into the building," Calvert said. "Everything after that didn't matter, but we've learned something important from this."

"What?"

Calvert looked at both of us. It was an odd situation. A middle-aged man was having a serious conversation with two young girls. It would have been creepy if not for the high number of young, female parahumans around. This sort of thing was unavoidable.

"Transistor," Calvert said. "Can you tell us what we've learned?"

 _What are you, my teacher? I don't know what you want._ "I can think of several things _I've_ learned." I answered. "I don't know about you."

He didn't smile at my reaction, but I doubt he ever smiles. "This was an extremely effective tactic on Wingspan's part," he said. "Bakuda has been terrifying in the past because of the destructive effects of her bombs, as well as her psychotic tendencies. But under Wingspan her actions are guided by Wingspan's logic and strategy. Bakuda is terrifying in an entirely different way now."

Oh.

"I don't get it," said Vista.

"Just look around," I said. "We don't even know what that suitcase does, but it's gotten half the police force out here, we've closed down six city blocks, we're completely prepared to evacuate the PRT building and write it off as destroyed, and of course we can't just _ignore_ it. This could happen again, in a different building."

And we would have no choice but to respond in the same way. You can't be part of a law enforcement agency, see a bomb, and decide _oh we have better things to do._ We have to evacuate, clear the streets, try to defuse it and waste time and energy dealing with it.

And all that time and energy we _must_ waste can be spent by Wingspan forwarding her own goals.

But the worst of it wasn't that she's blowing things up in the city. The worst of it was that _we didn't even know what the bomb did._ It could literally start playing the song _You Spin Me Round_ and still have the same distracting effect as if it actually exploded.

Just the fact that she has Bakuda on her team means we can't take chances.

 **July 28, 2011. 8:45 PM**

I noticed Calvert smiling.

It looked weird on him. Most of my day was spent doing absolutely nothing, so I had to occupy myself. I people-watched. A few reporters asked for interviews from me and a few autographs, but it was mostly just sitting around.

So when Calvert started smiling, I took notice.

"Did something happen?" I asked.

"My request for reinforcements went through. We're getting Flechette from New York and Leonid from Las Vegas. Also, Alexandria is going to maintain a presence in Brockton Bay until further notice."

" _I've also redirected two of my airships to patrol over Brockton Bay for a few days,"_ said Dragon. _"They should arrive within the hour."_

"Wow," I said. "That's quite a response."

" _A show of force is the best way to deter secondary criminal action after the detonation of Bakuda's bomb."_

Which is the professional way of saying it's a big sign to every villain in town that the truce has expired. And they will take advantage of the lack of heroes we have. But going from five up to seven will be good.

Alexandria will be best.

No one's going to fuck around when the Triumvariate is in town.

 **July 28, 11:20PM**

We were just waiting now.

Dragon's two airships patrolled the skies above Brockton bay along with Alexandria, all making their presences known. It really was a sight to see. Dragon's machines were something out of a science fiction novel. And Alexandria was invulnerable.

Beacons of hope in the sky of Brockton Bay.

" _Transistor, in position?"_

"Yeah," I said. Four blocks were cleared around the PRT building as a 'dead zone.' Literally no one was there. On the immediate perimeter were the police and us, all waiting for the bomb to go off.

We had no idea what it would do. But I was standing on a roof blocks away.

The term had come to my mind while sitting around waiting. Appeasement. We were appeasing Taylor. We would let her get away with this bombing so that she wouldn't do anything else. The devil we knew was better than that we didn't. It wasn't a good long-term strategy.

It might not even be a good short-term one. All we're really doing is satisfying Taylor's hunger to _do something meaningful._ This bombing will satisfy that urge of hers, but is going to cause problems in its own right.

The director had said it. It was the whole reason Alexandria was here. Taylor wasn't the only villain around. The Undersiders still controlled a majority of the city, the skinheads loved picking fights, the Asians poked their heads out of the sand every once in awhile, and Fault—

The boom was heavy in my chest.

" _Holy hell,"_ said a voice through the radio.

I stared at the PRT building. It hadn't exploded, been stopped in time, covered in toxic gas, or any of the thousand and one things we suspected we might happen. In fact, the entire building looked perfectly fine.

Except it was upside-down.

It, its foundation and a good chunk of the earth below it was flipped upside-down. The PRT building was now resting on its roof while a large chunk of earth slowly crumbled above it, gravity taking its toll. The creaks of the building echoed in the deserted streets as it took on stress it was never meant to handle.

" _If that's all it does I'll call it a good day,"_ Calvert said. _"That could have been a lot worse."_

" _Are you kidding?"_ Screamed Vista. _"Our entire building is ruined, how can we—this isn't fair!"_

" _We suspected this,"_ Calvert said. _"Not exactly, but we expected the building to be rendered unusable. Taylor's had her fun, now it's time to strike back."_

Calvert issued orders to Dragon about something or other, but what he just said stuck with my mind. Taylor's "had her fun" now. That's the phrasing he'd used.

Bakuda's bomb flipped the building upside-down. The suitcase her bomb was in painted with a U-turn symbol and two nights ago Taylor said that we were going to _flip_ when we saw what it did. They were just minor details, but they gave me goosebumps.

It meant Taylor was playing.

 _Playing._

I've read the fantasy stories. Villains who play with the heroes end up underestimating them and get screwed. But that's not how things actually worked in the real world. If Taylor's playing around then it means she has resources to call on when things get serious. She's confident in the size of her force, or her tactics, or both.

There's no doubt in her mind she'll win.

It doesn't mean she's stronger. It means she knows something we don't. And that can ruin us.

"Is there something I should do?" I asked.

" _Take Vista and patrol,"_ said Calvert. _"Be visible and be everywhere. Let people know we're still in charge of this city."_

"Can do."

Vista's position was on the other side of the dead zone, a good ten blocks away from me. But with my ability it wasn't more than a minute before I crossed the distance with a rapid number of eighty-meter hops. I found Vista on her perch staring at the upside-down PRT building.

It wasn't going to last long.

"It's gone..." Vista said. "First the Protectorate building after Leviathan, now the PRT building. This isn't fair. Why is this happening? I mean, we just... we just killed Behemoth. Why aren't we celebrating?"

I followed her gaze and watched the building slowly crumble. It might hold itself together a little while, but without a foundation it wasn't even close to being safe. A swift breeze could knock it over.

"Transie, just leave me alone."

"Can't do that, we gotta patrol. Prevent other villains from starting shit."

"But we—"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "The Endbringers don't matter to the villains of this city. They all can expect the Birdcage if caught, so they all do whatever they want whenever they want. Not to mention Taylor who specifically believes you idiots to have broken your precious truce first." I shrugged. "Maybe karma is catching up to you."

That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Vista started crying. Shit. She _did_ just fight Behemoth after all. What I said wasn't false, but Vista wouldn't listen to that logic. She was too emotional.

I put a hand on her shoulder, but she swatted it away. "Don't touch me," she screamed.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to be so... mean. I think the world is just changing and it's hard to keep up. Morality and truces are breaking down in the face of common sense. There's nothing you could do about that. I'm sorry, Vista."

I sat down on the roof of some office building next to her. She didn't say anything for awhile, but eventually she laid her head down in my lap.

"Uh..."

"Why didn't you come?" She asked with a sniffle. "To fight with us?"

I let the question hang.

"I was scared," I finally said. "I'm sorry. I haven't been a hero that long and when suddenly I was asked to go across the planet and fight something that's known for killing heroes I just—I just got scared. I ran away."

Her expression was impossible to read behind her mask.

"I feel awful," I lied.

She didn't respond, but turned her head to look up at me. Reading me. Vista wasn't the sort of person to be able to discern truths from lies like that. Whatever she believed about my response is only because it's what she _wanted_ to believe.

"We really do need to patrol though," I said.

"I'm not going."

I groaned. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can chat about boys or something. Did you hear Lionel is coming from Vegas? He's hot, right?"

Vista turned her head away. "I can't do this anymore. I quit."

"Not your type?" I asked. I knew it wasn't what she meant, but Vista couldn't actually _quit._ "Maybe you should take a day or two off and clear your head," I suggested. "You're not in a good mindset right now. I'll cover for you with Calvert, okay?"

With enough prodding she nodded. Good.

Which left me to patrol by myself, a first for me. It was awkward without any of the boys left to talk with. The only two Wards out tonight were Sophia and I. Or, at least I assumed she was out.

I haven't seen her since Behemoth, but she wasn't reported dead.

" _Be advised, airship Azazel taking small-arms fire in the beaches district."_ Said Dragon.

That was a bit far away from me. If Dragon wanted help she'd tell me, so I continued on with my patrol. It was dark out. Either the moon hadn't risen yet or it was obscured by some clouds I couldn't perceive.

A bright white light streaked across the sky.

" _In pursuit of Purity,"_ Alexandria said.

Purity was impossible not to see, but I couldn't make out Alexandria. Both of them could fly and I couldn't, so once again there wasn't any reason for me to intervene. But Calvert's suspicions were spot on.

The villains were getting anxious.

I decided to keep to the roofs. Calvert said to be visible so I couldn't sneak around, but I could at least minimize the danger. The rooftops were great. A majority of villains had plenty trouble getting up on roofs just like the rest of humanity.

This sucked. I hopped from rooftop to rooftop waiting for something to happen. Eventually though, that something did.

A bright light shone from a nearby street. Two teleports and I was there.

In the middle of the road was a massive ball of fire, like a miniature sun. The road around it was melting in its presence and the heat it radiated could be felt even from my perch.

A little ways away were some parahumans, easily identifiable by their sunlit costumes. Opposite the sun were some more. They were attacking each other so I doubted they were on the same team.

"Parahuman fight on Fourth and Flower," I whispered into the headset. "There's a sun here, and somebody who's probably controlling it."

" _Roger Transistor,"_ said Velocity. _"That would be the Travelers. Do you know who they're fighting?"_

"By the swastikas I'm guessing the Nazis."

" _Intervene on the side of the Travelers,"_ he said. _"Backup will be there shortly."_

 _Ugh. Alright._ I surveyed the situation for a moment. There was a lot of movement between the capes. It looked like the Nazis were attacking and the Travelers defending, but it was hard to tell. It was chaotic down there.

That sun though. That looked dangerous.

I targeted a cape that seemed able to manipulate the concrete or something because she was dragging huge chunks of it up and throwing them around. Eventually she paused.

I teleported right next to her and grabbed her wrist. "Move and I throw you into that sun," I said loudly. She glared at me.

"Let me go you fuckwad."

"Struggle and you die," I said. "Unless you want to test just how quickly I can teleport you."

"Fuck you," she growled. She tried to pull her hand away and I almost lost my grip. Rather than let her get away I moved her exactly where I said I would. About twenty meters above the sun, giving her two seconds to realize her mistake before she landed on it.

Her scream overtook the entire battle. I couldn't help but watch her fall, but before she burned the sun winked out of existence. Instead she hit the hard pavement.

I could hear the bones break.

Suddenly everyone was looking at me. I looked back. "You assholes better fucking cool it or I'm sending the next one up higher," I said.

I stared at the Travelers, then over at the Nazis. There were two of them, but by their costumes I couldn't figure out who they were or what they did. I didn't read up much on the Empire, being dismantled and all.

They glanced at their fallen teammate who wasn't moving. A twenty-two-point-four meter fall wasn't something that could be shook off. It's entirely possible that it was lethal.

I think I smiled.

 _Look at them, a short little high school girl is stopping them in their tracks._ _All I do is teleport people. It's not even that impressive. People have all these abilities like super strength and they can create blades out of their arms, but it's all useless._ _Because I have the touch of death._

Unless you can fly, brushing against my skin can kill you.

"What are you waiting for?" I shouted. "Run away and stop causing trouble."

A moment passed before they retreated. And they actually did retreat. Maybe "run away" isn't the right word, but they left. Scurried away into the shadows, and that was good enough. Even if they moved the fight somewhere else, what happened was important.

I became a threat right then. I hadn't realized I was restricting myself so much while out on patrol. I was with others before, but now I was alone. I could do anything. My powers, completely unrestricted. I could make the villains _fear_ me.

That felt euphoric.

I was going to laugh, but then the entire street went black. It had been dark since the sun had gone out, but now all the minor lights went out as well. The stars were gone like I was blind.

 _I remember this._

"Transistor," said a male voice. I spun around but all I could see was darkness. "You killed my teammate."

"You don't know that," I said. My voice was muffled. "She's right over there, go check her pulse or something before you make stupid accusations."

There was a pause. But in that pause, I realized how helpless I was. _I couldn't see anything._ Which meant I couldn't see where to teleport to. My ability required me to see the world around me so I could know exactly where to teleport what. Without that, without my vision—

—I couldn't do anything.

I can't believe I overlooked such a weakness. This had already happened. The _same person_ had done this to me before. I should have realized it then. Fuck me. Fuck.

"Not who I meant," he said. "I meant Tattletale. Though I see why you're confused, apparently you're a serial murderer."

Shit, I did do that. "You're Grue, right?" I asked. "I didn't kill your teammate. How do you even know she's dead?"

"We didn't have her join the heroes without insurance," he replied. "She was followed everywhere she went just in case the heroes tried to screw her. And they did, or rather, _you_ did. You threw Tattletale eighty meters into the air and watched her fall to her death."

"That's not true," I cried. There was no way I was followed. I teleported from that meeting with Taylor to somewhere entirely random, killed her there, and teleported away. Even if someone was _trying_ to follow us, they wouldn't be able to keep up.

There was a swift kick to my back and I fell onto the ground. Not that I could see it. I was in a world of black. I couldn't even see the ground that rubbed up against my face.

"But I saw you do it," said a female voice. "You and Taylor had an exchange where you planted that bomb so you could get TT back. I thought you were rescuing her, but then we teleported to a dark alley and you killed her. Like it was nothing. Two deep breaths and you did it. Then you waited for her to hit the ground and once you heard it you just teleported away."

 _That's... how did..._

That's impossible. I was the only person there. It was just me and Tattletale, I made sure of that. And they wouldn't have followed me as I teleported. Some thinker power, maybe, but Tattletale was dead.

"You're lying," I said. "If your story was true, how did you teleport with me?"

"I just held onto your sleeve," replied the girl. "I'm pretty light. I'm sure I wasn't that much extra baggage."

"I would have fucking seen you, you slut," I shouted. "Stop being a fucking retard and making shit up, I didn't kill your friend."

Someone's foot came down on my face.

"Ouch, fuck!"

"Stop denying it, Transistor," said Grue. "You killed Lisa in cold blood. Owe up to it."

"You're wrong."

Another kick, this time to my stomach. I burst into a coughing fit. They know. I don't know how, but they know what I did. They _saw_ what I did. Despite what I said, I knew they weren't lying. Unfortunately they had perfect confidence in their own words.

I couldn't shake that.

When a third kick came I ended up curling into a ball to defend myself.

"Admit it," the girl shouted. She repeatedly kicked me. But I couldn't move. When I tried to teleport it didn't work. I didn't know where to go. That's all there was too it. It's not that I was unable to teleport, I just didn't know where to go.

"Fine," I said quietly. The kicking stopped.

Silence.

"I did it," I whispered. "Everything you just said. I did it."

I wish I could see their reactions. To know where this conversation was heading. Did they plan on killing me out of revenge, or would they hesitate? I needed to know, but I couldn't. I couldn't see them. And the tone of their voices didn't help. The darkness muffled the sounds anyways.

"Why?" Asked Grue. "She was on your team, even if only technically."

"She was too dangerous," I said. "If Taylor got her hands on her, I would have been finished. I couldn't let that happen."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"She wants me. Taylor wants me as a pet. If she had Tattletale then I couldn't hide. Taylor would find me and I couldn't keep running." I took a deep breath. My sides hurt. "I won't apologize for defending myself, but I'm sorry your friend was born with a power that made her so dangerous. That's the best you'll get out of me, and if you kill me for it then fuck you."

"Trust me," said Grue. "I'm the only person on this team who's insisting we don't. We can't afford it, even if we all want to really really badly."

"I still say she deserves fucking vengence," said some other voice.

There was a moment of silence. My chest tightened and it was hard to breath. I took deep breaths, but I could never catch it. _This might be where I die. Not even by Taylor's hand, but by the Undersiders._

I underestimated them.

Something slammed into my legs and I could hear them break. I screamed as they were struck again and again by some hard object. A bat or a club. Then they moved to my back, and my stomach, slamming my body with the bat over and over again. I screamed from every hit.

When I ran out of breath I gasped. It hurt. It hurt.

"P-Please stop," I begged.

But they didn't. They were going to kill me. They were going to beat me to death. That's it. That's what's going to happen. I completely underestimated the Undersiders and it's turned out to be fatal.

It's over.

I lose. The strikes stopped and only pain and darkness remained.

I might be in hell. They might still be beating my body, but I've already died and my spirit's in hell. I have no way of knowing. All I can feel is pain. Pain and more pain. Throbbing pain in my entire body. My legs, my back, my waist. Time lost all meaning. There's nothing I could do, there was only pain. I just had to withstand the pain, that's all I could do.

A bright light filled my vision. Heaven?

"Holy shit," I heard someone say. "We need an ambulance here now. Or Panacea. Or fucking anybody. Transistor is down."

Nope. Not heaven. My vision was blurred and I couldn't talk, there was just pain. Pain all over.

" _Panacea is still in New Dehli,"_ said a crackling voice. I didn't even process what was being said, all I could think about was the pain.

"Fuck. She needs help bad." The person leaned over. Was that Battery? "Hey, Transistor." She said softly. "Don't worry, everything's going to be fine. Help is on the way."

Battery was useless. She stood around and whispered soft words into my ears until an ambulance actually arrived. By the sound of the EMT's "oh god" after seeing me, I knew I was in rough shape.

But I already knew that. Because it hurt.

It really really really really hurt.

The EMT looked me over, put something around my neck, bandaged something here and there, I don't really know. It was hard to pay attention. I just lied there and tried to withstand the pain.

Everything that happened next was a blur. I was brought somewhere that was presumably a hospital, faded in and out of consciousness several times and didn't comprehend what was happening when I _was_ conscious. Eventually I was brought into surgery which finally knocked me out completely.

Panacea had done all this a lot quicker the first time.


	20. Transistor 2-9

**Transistor 2.9**

I had wondered why Grue and the other Undersider didn't kill me. After I woke up from surgery and was on morphine I still wondered that. But my question was answered when a PRT guard came in and swung a handcuff around the side of my bed and my wrist. Grue had told the PRT what I'd done and offered a recording of me saying I did it.

The confession meant nothing since it was under duress. But just because it wasn't admissible as _legal_ evidence didn't mean it wasn't _rational_ evidence. The PRT knew where to look and since it was the truth the pieces fit together.

And after Dragon chimed in with a tape of me planting Taylor's bomb I was arrested. Apparently I was no longer of any use to her.

That was coupled with the excessive force I used earlier as my time as a Ward.

Apparently someone also investigated my behavior at Winslow.

All of this was, of course, after I was placed into a windowless private room. It seemed nice at first until I realized why they'd done it. There was no line of sight outside of the room which meant my teleportation couldn't help me escape.

In reality I couldn't get out of bed. Not only was I under arrest, I was too hurt to run away in the first place. All I could do was lie in bed, captured.

"I'm so sorry," Missy sobbed. Her head rested on the side of my bed. "This is my fault."

"I thought you hated me," I said.

She shook her head. "I'm supposed to be a hero but I left you there alone. You were alone and you got hurt and it's all my fault."

Missy started sobbing again. She clutched the blanket of my bed with her hand. "I did the same though," I said. "I left you to go fight Behemoth."

"That's different. There were hundreds of us there. But I was the only one you could count on and I abandoned you."

Her apology was nice but I didn't consider her actions as abandoning me. She never registered as someone I could count on in the first place. Especially after Behemoth. Missy was a complete wreck.

Her visit was nice though. I didn't have much else to do. The morphine helped with the pain, but I was still weak. I had a fever, a cough and I couldn't move my legs without immense pain.

"Missy, you know I'm under arrest." I said.

She nodded. "Mister Calvert is really angry at you," she said. "I guess he had something for Tattletale?"

"I did it, Missy. You shouldn't be here."

Missy clenched her fists. "I get it," she said. "It's what you said. The villains are always as serious as we are only during Endbringers. So that's why you went all out, right?"

I could work with that. "There was too much on the line to hold back," I said.

 _Thunk, splat._

She nodded. I wasn't going to ask, but I wondered what happened in New Dehli. Clockblocker, Weld, Browbeat, Armsmaster and Miss Militia didn't come back home. If Missy saw them die firsthand I could understand her mindset right now.

Really though? She looked broken.

"Missy, I don't—" I winced after accidentally moving my arm. "I don't want you to think that what I did was right. It wasn't. In my mind I had no other choice."

Except for letting Tattletale live. There was that option.

"You shouldn't follow my example," I said. "You're a better hero than I'll ever be."

Missy shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."She shouted. "I just _left_ them there. He was attacking us and I got scared and I just ran away with my power and I didn't even think about where I was or my team I just ran away and I left Dennis and Weld and everyone and just ran away and then. And then. And then Behemoth—and I just realized what I did then and just ran away."

She broke down crying. Missy's tears streamed down her face and soaked my sheets. I wasn't able to interrupt or console her. "Missy," I said. But she didn't respond. I repeated it a few times until she looked up at me.

"I'm the most horrible person on the planet," Missy said.

I shook my head. "If you are, so am I." I averted my gaze. "I left Kid Win to escape on my own, and now Taylor's got him. I just teleported away. I didn't even think about it."

I reached out my hand and grabbed Missy's.

"I don't think that makes us bad people, Missy. We're just afraid."

Missy was still crying, but instead of crying to herself she crawled up onto my bed and hugged me, burying her crying head into my chest. Her movements hurt and I winced, but I tried not to show it. Instead I wrapped my arms around her in a hug.

We stayed like that until a PRT guard came back into my room and said Vista had to leave. Some excuse about visiting hours being over, though I think they wanted me alone to break me in some sort of solitary so I'd officially confess. On the advice of my lawyer, I'm not going to talk to anybody about anything.

That being said, I already told Missy the truth. But that was different. Not in the eyes of my lawyer I'm sure, but it is in the bigger game being played. I hoped that Missy thought us close enough to be friends now. Because I'm in need of some serious help.

The Birdcage is not on my top ten must-visits.

But more than that, I was injured. I was a wounded doe waiting for someone like Taylor to bite my neck and feast on my entrails. And there wasn't anything I could do about it. My pack was mostly dead and those still alive didn't care for me.

Panacea was in New Dehli and she would be for weeks. I don't doubt they need her more than Brockton Bay does, but fuck do I wish she was my friend. Being best friends with Panacea is the number one goal for a parahuman, because without her I have months of recovery to look forward to. I couldn't even use my legs right now. According to one of the doctors, I _may_ be able to use a wheelchair in two weeks. _May._

If there's any upside at all, it helps my case against being sent to the Birdcage. I can't even move out of my bed. The Birdcage is overkill, as my lawyer put it.

Missy stopped by every day that week. Even though I was under arrest they let me have visitors. My family came as well, though they needed special arrangements to keep their presence secret. Missy stopped by more often than they did.

The company was nice. I had nothing better to do, though it wasn't until a week later—a week of exams, medications, bandages, pills and pain—that Missy said something that pricked my interest.

"We're losing," she said.

"Come again?"

"Against Wingspan. Against Fenrir's Chosen. Against the Undersiders. We're just losing."

She elaborated. Apparently Taylor conceded some territory to Fenrir, but then convinced Parian to be an ally. Missy stressed that Parian didn't seem mastered when they clashed, but it still seemed like the likely scenario. The Undersiders and Travelers still held half the city, Wingspan (and Parian) a third, and Fenrir the rest.

Missy went on to explain despite Alexandria and Dragon's presence, as well as Lionel and Flechette joining, there wasn't any noticeable drop in criminal activity. While Alexandria was completely able to stop fights, no one had been killed or captured. They didn't even get that Empire girl I dropped onto the ground.

Guess she wasn't as injured as I thought.

In fact, Taylor posed a serious threat to Dragon's airships. With Bakuda, Kid Win and Squealer on her side, the tinker tech at her disposal was insane. Dragon's ships took to patrolling the other territories and didn't enter Taylor's at all.

Missy told me all of this. The chaotic state of the city I couldn't witness from my hospital bed. And after she was finished, I knew the perfect thing to say.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

As expected, Missy looked confused.

"I'm no help," I continued. "So what about you? Our city is broken. Fix it."

"I can't do that," Missy said. "Not even Alexandria and Dragon can fix anything."

I grabbed the cup on the side of my table and took a sip of water. Rather than bend my arm to put it back, I teleported it. My ability still worked fine. "That doesn't sound very heroic," I said. "Heroes are supposed to take action even when people better and smarter than them fail."

"I'm no hero."

For some reason I didn't have a response handy. Not one that would hold any real meaning. Missy was pretty down about her life. Reality is closing in on her and putting her to the test.

She seems to be failing. The room was quiet.

"So don't fix _everything_ ," I said. "It's fine not to save everybody. If you can save the person in front of you, that's enough. That's all you ever need to do. You don't need to be a super hero, you need to be that one person's hero. It's enough."

Me.

Save _me_ , Missy.

She didn't give me a response and then the guard came in to escort her out. She had a patrol or something. I hope she understood what I was asking of her.

There wasn't any way I could say it directly. There was no way I could tell her to break the law. Not just because the room was almost definitely monitored, but because it would be a major breach of our friendship. Friends don't ask friends to break the law.

At least not openly.

A doctor came in and asked to change my bandages. I asked if he wanted me to teleport them off, but he insisted he had to do it slowly. With a shrug I let him get to work.

It was still painful. Of course it was painful. It was going to be painful for months. The doctors had not-so-carefully avoided answering the question the first couple times I asked it, but I had the distinct impression that I might be in pain for a very long time.

They had eventually given up on handcuffing me to the side of the bed. It was trivial to take them off with my ability and even if it wasn't the doctors needed them off to examine me. It's not like I could leave the room, even if it _wasn't_ guarded.

I still couldn't walk. There were huge casts on my legs. And no windows meant no teleports.

But even worse than the pain was the boredom. There was nothing for me to do. My family had brought me a few books but that was it. I couldn't do anything that required moving around and there wasn't a television.

If it wasn't for Missy's regular visits I wouldn't even know what's going on in this city. I was locked away in my own little world, not even a window to tell the time of day. Only a cheap clock mounted above the door told me that it was late afternoon.

Dinner was chicken and mashed potatoes. The potatoes were still cold on one side. It was lazily microwaved and served with no attention to whether it was done or not. But without anything else to eat, down the hatch it went.

Prison would be better than this. _Anything_ would be better than this. This pain.

I wished I could go back a week. Go back and do things differently. I knew that was an unproductive thought, but I couldn't resist having it. I Imagined what I would have done differently and where I might be right now.

When nine rolled around the lights went out, as they always did, I took it as my cue to try sleeping. The one thing that I actually enjoyed doing was sleeping. It passed the time quicker. All there was to do now was wait until my body healed itself and being unconscious made that go by quicker.

My eyes opened. I looked around, but the lights were still off. There was a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. It sounded like firecrackers.

It might be gunshots.

My body tensed up. I looked around but couldn't find anything to defend myself with. Just blankets, pillows, IV drips and a lot of bandages. Not much help, so I stared at the door.

The pop-pop-pop got louder and I could hear people shouting through my door. That was it, something was definitely going on. The hospital was being attacked. _This fucking city, not even a hospital is safe from some violent maniac._

I could hear a scuffle just outside my door, followed by the sound of that spray foam the PRT guards love to carry, followed by it abruptly stopping. The gunfire echoed in the distance but whatever happened outside my door was done.

Someone attempted to open it, but found it was locked. I sighed.

"Come in, Taylor." I shouted.

My visitor forced the door in. I could hear the wood splinter as the entire frame shattered from the force.

"You look terrible," Taylor said. I can't say I was entirely surprised. Or even a little bit surprised. She flipped the light switch on so I could see her better. Still wearing that red outfit and boots with a grin on her face. Behind her was Bakuda, a grenade launcher in her hands.

"Guess the foam didn't nab you out there," I said.

"Hallway's covered in it," Taylor responded. "But I'm pretty fast. Is that really the first thing you have to say to me?"

"Are you here to bite me?" I asked. "It still won't work, even if I look this vulnerable. You can't touch me."

Taylor tried to shut the door behind her, but it didn't close properly. With a proper application of force it somehow wedged itself back into the broken frame. That door was having as bad of a day as I was. Taylor didn't seem to care and focused on me.

Her smile faded.

"I thought I was taking advantage of you that night," she said. "I planned on letting Tattletale go anyways. She had helped me in the past and I owed her a favor. But when you offered to do _anything_ for her, I figured why not? But you played me. You didn't want to save her, you wanted to kill her."

"It's still your fault," I said. "If you weren't chasing me I wouldn't have had to kill her."

It worked. There was a sadness on Taylor's face. It was brief, extremely brief, but I saw it. I could work this angle. I could work _her._

"Seriously," I said. "Why did you come here?"

"You should know that." Taylor forced her grin back on her face. "Pet."

I shook my head. "Doesn't make sense. You can't touch me, you can't master me. You can't make me your pet by coming here. You can't do _anything_ by coming here."

"Maybe I just wanted to chat."

"That's stupid."

I glared at her, but she kept that stupid grin on her face. Though I gave her a response already, chatting is the preferred option. Chatting prevents her from killing me, because she certainly doesn't need to touch me to kill me. That's why humanity invented guns.

But chatting gives the heroes time to converge. Chatting only hurts Taylor.

"Why don't you ask that question you've always wondered," I said. It wiped the smile right off Taylor's face.

She walked over towards the side of my table. I tensed up, but she didn't reach out to me. She only made me have to look up at her. "You're smart," she said. "Smarter than I ever thought you were. Why did you do all of those things to me? Steal my homework, for instance, if you could have easily done a better job yourself?"

I thought so. She still didn't understand it, even after all this time. I stared up into her red eyes. "Why," I said, "would I waste time doing a pointless assignment when someone else will do it for me?"

"Thats it?"

"That's it."

"But then why the torturing? The pranks? Just everything?"

"They would keep you subservient." I crossed my arms, only to realize the pain made me wince. "Doing so was beneficial to me and whatever pain it caused you was not my concern. There's no special reason, I'm not like Emma who was broken by some tragedy. She was raped, right? And she was lost and confused and wanted control, and she got it by bullying you. But I'm not like that. No tragedy broke me. I've been like this since the day I was born."

The silence hung and only the echoes of the occasional shout or pop of a gun could be heard in the distance.

I had never told anyone that before.

Taylor looked down at her feet, her red eyes wavering. "You're horrible," she said. She looked exactly like she did in school.

"Get over it," I said. "It was so like you to set that bomb's timer how you did. You gave the PRT exactly as long as they gave you. You yearn for your enemy to understand your pain, but guess what Taylor? _I don't care._ "

"So you're saying I should just kill you."

I snorted. "You don't have the guts. I'm not sorry for what I did, not even a little bit. The sooner you scamper away and realize there's nothing for you here the better it'll be for all of us."

She shot her head up at me. "Fuck you," she said and grabbed my throat. As soon as we made contact I teleported her as far away as I could, which was the other side of the room.

"I told you, you can't touch me."

"You bitch," Taylor growled. Then she reached into her coat and pulled out a handgun, aiming it at my head from across the room. "I can easily kill you."

"Yes, but I'm still not sorry."

She didn't shoot me. I stared down the barrel of the gun into her eyes. I could see her trigger finger. In reality I wasn't in any real danger. If her finger went to pull the trigger I would teleport to her, steal the gun, and teleport back into bed. It would hurt like a bitch but I could do it.

But she never pulled the trigger.

"I don't get it," she said. "Why don't you just lie and humor me? If you said you were sorry for bullying me, even if there was only a small chance I would forgive you, why didn't you lie and say that?"

I looked back up at her. If she didn't know that—if she really didn't understand that—there was no doubt in my mind anymore. The answer to that question was so fundamental.

"Taylor, the Nine didn't do anything at all to you, did they?"

Her eyes went wide. "What...?"

I thought so. "If they really turned you into a power-hungry monster that question would be absurd. In fact, if you were a power-hungry monster then you wouldn't even be here."

"I don't follow."

"Just look around," I exclaimed. "You're attacking a _hospital_ that's guarded by the PRT. There's no strategic value in this target. People will only think you _more_ of a monster for attacking such a place. The heroes will be here in minutes if they aren't already. There's incredible risk attacking this place and no reward whatsoever. So why did you?"

She didn't respond, but I didn't need her to.

" _Me,_ right? You attacked this place because _I'm_ here. Me, Madison Clements. You put yourself at intense risk because of me. Alexandria is on the premises by now and you can't be so arrogant to think you can stand up to her. You might go back to jail tonight, Taylor. And why? _Me."_

Taylor's gun trembled in her hand. I raised my voice.

"That is why I didn't apologize to you. Because by not apologizing, you obsessed over me. You had to teach me a lesson. You had to own me. You had to blah, blah, blah, _me._ Tell me I'm wrong. During everything you've done, you've thought about me while doing it. Every day I've entered your brain. You're obsessed."

"That's—"

"I own you," I shouted. "You think you're dominating me? It's the other way around. You're dancing to _my_ strings. _I've_ brought you here. I don't give a fuck about you Taylor, you could die and I wouldn't even flinch. But if _I_ died? If I died or was sent to prison before you could 'teach me the error of my ways,' you would never recover. It would haunt you for the rest of your life."

"So you have it wrong," I continued. "You shouldn't call me pet, you should call me master."

At that she brought her gun up and fired, but missed completely. I could trace the direction of the gun the entire time so I knew I was safe.

"See, you can't do it." I laughed. "Just scurry away, Taylor. Scurry away before the real heroes come and take you down for good."

Taylor gritted her teeth. She was shaking. Her entire body was shaking with anger, with rage, but I know you Taylor. I know exactly who you are. The Nine did nothing to you. You are the same Taylor Hebert that stood in the hallway while I poured juice over your head and said nothing. You just took it.

That's your defense. Bear with it. Withstand the punishment and flee when you can. That fundamental part of yourself you can't change, Taylor Hebert. No matter how much you want it, no matter how much you _need_ it, you can't seize control.

It's not who you are.

Taylor grabbed my bed and flipped it over, me still on top of it.

The world spun around and I screamed as I slammed into the floor, then again as the bed fell on top of me. It happened too fast for me to process what happened. My vision was blocked by the bed so I couldn't teleport and I was too weak to move it off of me.

Taylor grabbed the bed and partially lifted it off. I turned my head to look, but her wings were the only thing I could see. Between her and the bed, my vision was completely blocked off.

"I've been paying attention, you know." Taylor said. She held the bed up with one hand like it was styrofoam. "You can only teleport to places you can see."

 _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

She was still the same Taylor. I had to belive in that. That would be the only path of escape.

"So you've abandoned it, then?" I asked. It came out as barely more than a rasp.

"Abandoned what?"

"Trying to teach me a lesson. You're going to force it, like you did Emma."

I couldn't see Taylor's face and it hurt to turn my head. I could only see up about as far as her waist, which meant I couldn't read her facial cues.

This was the worst.

"Why bother trying?" Taylor asked. "You won't repent."

I snorted. "You didn't even try. You just attacked me. You think that's the way to convince someone you're right? This is why you suck at high school."

Taylor shifted the angle of the bed and stepped towards me. I tried to force myself onto my back. If I could catch a glimpse of the ceiling or anything in the gap between Taylor's wings and the bedframe, I could escape.

Before I twisted an inch Taylor's boot crashed down on my head. I didn't have the energy to scream. Instead, a wheeze exited my mouth.

"Stop it," Taylor said with her boot on my face. "Admit you've lost."

She hadn't just stepped on me, she'd put the sole of her boot on my temple. Exactly the right location to block my eyesight from seeing above. It wasn't merely an attempt to dominate me, Taylor planned every movement she made.

 _This is bad._

"Two options, pet." Taylor said. "Be bitten, or go to the Birdcage."

 _She gave me an option._ She had me at her mercy, but she gave me an option. I couldn't know if she actually meant it—if I answered, she could do whatever she wanted regardless. But she at least said it.

I doubted she had control over the courts, she wasn't _that_ powerful. The Birdcage was only a possibility. For Taylor, it was only a threat to make me submit.

"Bi.. Bird..." I said.

Taylor grinded her boot into my face. "Are you serious? You'd prefer to go to the fucking Birdcage over me?"

 _Please let me have read this situation right._

 _Please._

"I-If you want... me to... apologize... then..."

 _Do or die._

"try... harder..."

Taylor took her foot off my face, but I didn't try to escape again. I stared at the ground and waited for her reaction. For a minute, nothing changed.

Then she tossed the bed aside and swept down, putting her hand over my eyes. Every movement calculated, rendering me completely helpless. Taylor pulled my head towards her and I could feel her breath on my neck.

 _Damn._

I waited for it to happen. For her to bite me. For her to make me hers, like Emma and Bakuda and the rest of them. But seconds ticked by without her fangs pierceing my neck. Instead, she whispered something into my ear.

My address. The one she wasn't supposed to know about.

And then she dropped me. "Let's go, Bakuda." She said.


	21. Transistor End

**Transistor End**

Being blind probably really sucks.

"Your honor, my client has shown good faith even in the PRT's failure to properly defend her. These restraints are barbaric, unnecessary and only paint a biased picture."

He was talking about the blindfold over my head and the handcuffs attaching me to my wheelchair. They prevented me from wheeling said wheelchair.

"Yes counselor, your objections have been noted." Said someone. The judge, I'm assuming. I couldn't actually _see_ anybody, so I had to take it on good faith that I was in front of a jury of my peers.

Apparently there was precedent that parahumans can have special restraints during court proceedings. Canary's trial was used as such, where she had some god-awful mask that prevented her from speaking. The fact that Canary was brought up didn't instill me with confidence.

I'm quite happy to be in America though, where we have a right to a public trial by jury. It wasn't that I counted on my peers to judge fairly—far from it, in fact. But the fact that I could force the government to set all this up for me publicly was important.

It meant everyone knew when and where the trial of Transistor was taking place.

"The defense will be arguing self-defense," said my lawyer. It was surprisingly hard to keep track of the conversation without being able to see the people speaking. I knew that visual cues were important, but they were _really_ important.

I felt a tension in the air. None of it from the lawyers, or the jury, or even the judge. But I could still feel it. I could hear it, even. The tension of the guards, the heroes patrolling around the courthouse and the shuffles of the audience.

Calvert must be smart enough to know this situation was incredibly dangerous. He'd know that my asking for a public trial with a jury and all the works meant I was setting him up for something. He'll have prepared.

The Birdcage was on the table, but unlikely. It didn't matter.

"We'd like to call Vista to the stand as a character witness."

 _So Missy's here._ I could hear her footsteps as she approached the stand and she started saying how I wasn't a bad person and a bunch of stuff like that. It was weird not being able to see her as she answered everyone's questions.

"Vista, you said that the Wards have taken some heavy losses recently, so there's an aura of fear. Is this true?"

"Yeah."

"However, I have a report here of a PRT engagement with the villain Hellhound. Apparently Hellhound was struck in the temple with a blunt arrow, nearly ending her life. Can you tell me who it was that fired this arrow?"

"It, umm. It was Transistor..."

"And this was weeks before the heavy losses the Wards and Protectorate took, correct?"

"Umm, y-yeah. But—"

"Would you say that Transistor is prone to violent behavior?"

"N-No! She was just new then, she didn't know how things worked."

"Alright, fair enough. Another question then, during operation B-127, did Transistor abandon Kid Win and escape on her own?"

"Operation what?"

"It was the attack the PRT performed on one of Wingspan's armored vehicles that caused time to stop for a few hours."

"O-Oh. I wouldn't say she abandoned him."

"But did she leave him alone and escape by herself?"

There was a pause, and the judge asked Missy to answer the question. God damn Missy, you're only making things worse.

The pause lasted awhile. Long enough that people in the back started whispering. Something must be going on, because it shouldn't take this long for Missy to answer the question. Instead, the judge's voice was the one that echoed inside my ears.

"I apologize, but in light of a recent crisis this trial will be in recess until further notice." The gavel slammed on the podium to a sea of murmuring and questions from the audience.

The locks were undone on my wheelchair and someone started rolling me away. Back to captivity, I suppose.

Maybe.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Missy. She was walking beside me. I'd heard the footsteps, but I hadn't known it was her. "Wingspan's trying something, probably."

I didn't respond.

I hadn't admitted it to her, but Taylor was right. She'd won. She'd won thoroughly and absolutely. My current situation, from the trial to my injuries, was a cost paid with no benefit. I killed Tattletale to keep my home a secret, and it didn't matter. Taylor knew anyways. How many nights had I gone to sleep, completely vulnerable, with her watching me?

She would always find me. She owned me. That is what she had made clear that night in the hospital. The only _escape_ from her would be the Birdcage. And now my trial was interrupted.

I smiled a little bit. _I can see the ending._

The breeze told me we were outside, as did the one-to-twelve decline as the PRT agent pushed me down the wheelchair ramp.

"It's that one there," Missy said.

If I had to guess, I was being loaded into the back of a PRT van. This guess was confirmed when I heard the rev of an engine and we started moving.

Five minutes went by in the van without a word.

"Transie, I'm going to take off your blindfold now." Missy said finally. "We're going pretty fast so please don't try to teleport away through the windshield. Your ability conserves momentum, right?"

"I won't, I'm hurt enough already." I said. At least until the van had to stop at a stoplight or make a sharp turn and slow down. This might be Missy trying to help me.

She took the blindfold off and vision was restored. She sat across from me in the back of the van. It was just the two of us back here and two PRT guards in the front, driving. It was pretty dark and there was a red glow coming from outside the windshield.

"How are you feeling?" Missy asked.

I eyed the speedometer. Sixty miles per hour. Way too dangerous. "I've been better," I said.

She frowned. "I feel really bad. I want to help you so bad, Transie."

"It's fine, there's nothing you could do." I said.

"Well, er." She avoided my gaze. "I kind of..." Missy trailed off.

"What did you do?" I asked.

She didn't respond. The agent in the passenger seat did. "She went into the maw of the lion for you, _Transie_. I'd hold on to her."

That voice. "I recognize you," I said. "You're Faultline."

"Indeed I am. Shamrock's driving. Say hi, Shamrock."

"I'm trying to drive here."

Faultline's crew was driving the van. I was in a van with Faultline's crew. With Missy.

That had to sink in.

They did a really good job. The PRT agent loaded me right into their van and they just drove off. With whatever crisis Taylor just caused they won't even notice the van never arrived where it was supposed to. They have free reign to take me anywhere.

 _Vista_ did. She had to be in charge here.

"Vista, what did you do?" I repeated more sternly.

"S-Sorry, but I didn't—I mean, the person who's causing you all this trouble is Taylor, you know, so I thought I'd... I'd talk to her..."

She did what?

She did _what?_

"When?" I asked.

"A few weeks ago. When she, you know, broke in to your hospital room."

"You caused that."

She nodded and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, she said that she wanted to stop chasing you too and that if you two could talk face to face then... I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just trying to help you. If we can get Taylor to stop, then you'll be free. Right?"

"It's not that simple."

But it's refreshing to know that my plan worked. It worked so well I didn't realize it was working until now. My conversation with Missy pushed her to go speak with Taylor. That pushed Taylor to speak with me, and I pushed her to rescue me from custody.

Puppets. They're nothing but puppets. And I haven't lost my edge, not even one bit. Which means:

"Faultline, you fucking liar." I said. "You told me that Taylor left your crew. That the Nine did something to her."

"Way to give away your secret identity," said the driver. Shamrock. She was supposed to be concentrating on driving.

"Like I care."

"Right, I totally lied." Said Faultline. "People lie. You should already know that lesson. Of course Taylor never left my crew."

"The PRT reports never pegged you for trying to grab power," I said. "Just money. Why a sudden interest in owning Brockton Bay?"

Faultline turned to look at me.

"What, that _is_ Taylor's goal, right?"

"Incredible," Faultline said. "But we're almost there, so you can ask her yourself. Are we going to have to blindfold you again?"

"No," I said. "I'm looking forward to seeing Taylor Hebert again."

The van pulled into an underground parking garage and they helped me out of the back. The four of us—me, Missy, Faultline and Shamrock—made our way over to the elevator. We must have been in a tall building because Faultline hit the button for the twentieth floor.

There were lots of windows on this floor, but an overwhelming red glow drowned the entire room. Like a huge fire raging on outside, or the sun shining through clouds of ash. Except I couldn't smell any smoke.

"Ah fuck, we have to carry her don't we?" Shamrock asked.

"Yeah," Faultline said pointed towards a staircase. Next to it was a sign that said "roof access." Ah.

"I'm not that heavy," I insisted.

The two of them grabbed my chair and carried me up the stairs, leaving me to open the door. With a deep breath, I turned the handle and went onto the roof of the building.

The sky was red.

Thick, red clouds blocked out the sun. The entire city was in a darkness not unlike that of an impending rainstorm, except this was clearly not a mere rainstorm. I could see where the clouds parted far out into the water. It didn't stretch across the entire sky.

But it stretched across all of Brockton Bay.

Taylor stood with her wings fully extended facing towards the city. When I rolled towards her she turned.

"Hello again, Madison."

"You win," I said.

Taylor smiled. "I think I misheard you there," she said.

 _Now you're just milking it._ "You win, Taylor. I lose." I looked at the red sky. "This is your final play, isn't it." I said. I could hear gunfire echo through the city and laser beams occasionally fired up into the sky. "This is where you take over the city, or fall."

"Yes." Taylor looked out to the city. It quickly fell into chaos. "Bakuda scorched the sky. With her and Squealer I have armed vehicles. Tanks, technicals, and rovers. With Kid Win I have turrets. And with my ability I have loyal forces."

Huh. She said that like it was supposed to be news.

"I have an army, and I'm taking Brockton Bay by force." Taylor said. "The PRT you've hid behind will offer you no more protection and I'll make sure the other villains either join me or are run out of town."

"Bold words," I said.

"But I can't do it with you standing there," Taylor said. "I hate you Madison, I hate you so much. Not only did you ruin my life in school, you're ruining my plans by being so fucking... _you._ If you hadn't triggered, you would be on the ground right now licking my boots."

I bit my lip to prevent myself from responding. The urge to defend myself was strong.

Taylor stepped towards me. Loomed over me, but it wasn't effective. I'm not prone to such tricks. "You said I win. Does that mean you'll apologize? Get down on your knees and let me master you?"

 _She's loving this._

I'd let her enjoy herself. She needed to show me that she owned me. That the Birdcage was an _escape_ for me, and it was up to her whether or not I would go. She could bite me whenever she wanted and I was powerless to stop it.

But there was a catch to the power Taylor held over me. As soon as she _did_ bite me, she lost it. She lost her power over Madison and instead gained _another slave._ This was my in.

I avoided her gaze. Phrasing this one right was important. "Please don't bite me. I'll join your team. I'll do what you say. Just please don't bite me."

"How could I possibly trust you?"

I looked back up into her eyes and put on the best pleading look I could manage. "I can prove my loyalty. I'll do something no one else can. Please."

"And what would that be?"

I took a deep breath. "I'll defeat Alexandria for you."


	22. Interlude (Taylor Hebert)

**Interlude (Taylor Hebert)**

 **Several months earlier**

"...her ...regenerating ..."

Taylor couldn't see, but words entered her brain from somewhere close by. A young girl's voice. A word or two, that's it. She had no other senses. She had no sight, no feeling, no smell and no touch. Taylor was afloat in an empty world.

"...beautiful ...can do ...blood ..."

She tried to move her arms, but she didn't know if she had a body. Taylor was pure consciousness floating in the ether. The action to even open her eyes seemed foreign, as if eyes were something that only existed in fantasy.

"...template ... half an hour ..."

The words didn't make any sense. Taylor tried to rationalize the world she'd been dealt, but she had nothing. Only the unhelpful words.

"Jack, she's... There's nothing I could... already been done..."

But there were more. Slowly, more words echoed. Longer phrases and sentences that could be parsed together. A flutter. _Her eyes._ Eyes were real, and Taylor had them. She tried opening them, but it wasn't working. Like she forgot how. It was on the tip of her... of her... well, the tip of her something.

"...there isn't an actual... triggered... like what I... Cherish, but for real..."

Open! Taylor suddenly remembered how simple it had been. She opened her eyes and a world of color flooded her brain. Brown walls, colorful paintings on the wall, a white carpet. A cacophony of images rushed into her, a girl, a man, and her grip on reality was back.

Taylor was captured by the Nine. She knew this. She remembered, she had been fighting with Faultline and—

"No no no," said Bonesaw. She met Taylor's eyes. "She's awake, this is super bad."

Jack turned his body towards Taylor. By her line of sight, she was probably sitting on a chair. Taylor still couldn't move her body, but she could see, and her thinking cleared. The fog quickly lifted.

Bonesaw grabbed a syringe and jogged over to Taylor, sticking her in the neck. She pushed the plunger and stood by, waiting for Taylor to fall back unconscious.

But Taylor could see!

"No no no no no no no," Bonesaw said. "I can't believe you've resisted this template too. That's everything I had." She scrambled across a table stuffed with equipment. Microscopes, scissors, knives, saws. Surgical equipment.

"How long until she can move?" Asked Jack.

"I dunno," Bonesaw said frantically. "Minutes?"

"That is unfortunate."

"I can try to hit her with something else. She's developed resistance against every paralytic I had, but I think I could cut her legs off. It'd take at least a couple of hours to grow those back."

Taylor tried to move her body. She had her mind, but she needed her body. She could escape the torture of the Slaughterhouse Nine if she could only move.

She willed herself. She told her body to move. Forced it to move.

It tingled a little, but that was it.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Jack said. "I will take it from here. You have other projects worth pursuing, right?"

Bonesaw nodded and then met Taylor's eyes again. There was a very human sparkle in them, something Taylor would have never expected to see in a monster like that. But she turned her head and left the room.

Jack Slash pulled up a chair and sat across from Taylor.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Jack Slash."

Taylor couldn't respond, but her body tingled. She thought that meant sensation was coming back into her body.

"The paralytic. Of course." Jack had a smile on his face. "I guess I'll have to do the speaking for both of us until you can respond. But I'm alright with that. Bonesaw says that you will be able to move soon. I'm assuming that once you can, you'll try to escape." He pointed to Taylor's chest, then wagged his finger. "I can tell you now it won't work. I can remove your head before you get out of your chair." He paused. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to threaten you. I would love if we could talk without it coming to that."

Even if Taylor could speak, she didn't have a response to give to this man. But she listened. She listened because that's all she could do.

"You see, there's a lot to talk about. Most people are boring, and most super-people are boring, but you're not. Admittedly, I didn't see it when we were picking candidates for our newest member. You looked evil, but your actions didn't seem that evil. Rather a stereotypical situation, and stereotypical is boring. But Bonesaw saw what I couldn't."

Jack turned his head as if to look for her. "You see," he continued, "when Bonesaw got her hands on you, she almost immediately realized how special you were. The term she used was beautiful. For her it was laying eyes on the Mona Lisa. All that emotion. The majesty, the grace and the suffering. It moved her, seeing you. I was envious that she saw something that could move her so. For that, I have to give you thanks."

Taylor tried to open her mouth, but she couldn't expel air through it to make words. She tried and her throat shuddered like it was trying to cough.

Jack nodded as if he understood what she was trying to say. "I'll explain myself. Bonesaw thinks of her work as art. Her manipulations of the body are her masterpieces. But when faced with you, a perfect creation, she knew that what she had done could not compare. It's something we all face at one time or another. The realization we know nothing, there is so much to learn, and there are masters that far surpass our meager ability."

He reached behind him and grabbed a piece of paper off the table. He held it up for Taylor to see. It was a crude sketch of some sort of blob, labeled with things she didn't understand.

"You have a disease," he said. "A disease that takes over the entire body. It's almost like a dictator. It demands that it runs every aspect. It replaces your blood with itself, gets into every organ in your body and takes control. But it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. It protects you."

Jack shrugged.

"Mostly. By my standards it's flawed, but Bonesaw thought the pieces fit together perfectly. I just can't see it."

"W-Wh...What..." Taylor coughed out.

"Ah, so she speaks. I should get to the point then, shouldn't I?" Jack leaned forward in his chair. "When you can start fabricating sentences, I would love to converse with you. Do this with me until I'm satisfied and you can leave this place unharmed. I promise. If you decide to use the sensation returning to your body to escape, I will eradicate you. Once again, I don't meant to threaten. That's just what will happen."

Taylor knew that there had to be a catch. Something she couldn't see. The offer was too good to be true for the Slaughterhouse Nine to let her go. They _never_ let anyone go. But if he wanted to talk, then she could talk.

Well, she almost could talk.

"Ok..ay..."

"Excellent. So where was I?" He put a finger to his chin. "Your disease, right. So it's actually rather helpful to you, in the end. Regeneration, super strength, etcetera. These things aren't interesting to me though. I'm most interested in how these little guys in your body spread. They're a disease, after all." He poked at the sketch on the paper.

"I know," Taylor rasped. "I master."

" _Specifically,_ when the disease infects a new host it also attacks the brain. It forces devotion to the infecting agent. You would have to ask Bonesaw for the details, but that's the gist of it. And that's interesting in its own right, but there's plenty of masters in the world. I've paid some of them a visit personally, and they all have a bit too much confidence in themselves. It offends me."

Taylor shook her head. "Not me."

"Oh I know. You see, that's what I find interesting about you, Taylor Hebert."

Her heart skipped a beat when he said her full name. Or at least it would have, if she actually had a heartbeat.

"Don't look so worried, I don't care about your identity." Jack leaned back in his chair, perfectly relaxed. "But see, it's strange. You have this ability that causes devotion to you. _Permanent_ devotion, unaffected by range or time, and yet you haven't used it. A master like you could carve a chunk out of this city for yourself. And yet, not only have you not done that, you've acted like..." He frowned. "Well, like a stereotypical fifteen-year-old girl."

"Sixteen," she said. "And I'm not evil. Does that answer your question?"

"Well, no. Evil is just a word. It's not a reason. Or at least it shouldn't be." He grinned at that last phrase.

Taylor could wiggle her fingers, and her mouth only tingled a little bit. She could move her tongue around and her ability to speak was back. Her throat was dry, though that had been true before she was captured.

Jack wasn't simple-minded even if he was insane. Taylor would have to respond in intelligent conversation while she thought of an escape plan.

"People have a right to make their own decisions," she said. "I don't believe I should take that away from them."

That response garnered a smile. "Thank you for taking this seriously," he said. "Even if you're just humoring me. I was almost afraid you were going to say controlling people is wrong."

"That too."

"Now I don't know exactly what your infected act like, but if Bonesaw is right the pathogen only causes devotion. It doesn't completely take over their mind and control their body. They're the same people they were before, only with a new purpose. It just so happens that that purpose is to serve you."

Taylor shook her head, and it actually moved back and fourth. "No. Well, yes, but you're wrong. I don't have the right to... no, I'm sorry. I don't _want_ to force that purpose on them. Even if it's convenient, even if I kind of like it at times. I don't want people to serve me if _they_ don't want to serve me."

"But they do," Jack said. "They _do_ want to serve you."

"I mean before I bite them."

Jack shook his head at that. "It doesn't work that way. What does their brain-state _before_ you bite them have to do with their brain-state _after_ you bite them?"

"The fact that it's changing because I want it to."

"So?"

" _So,_ I would rather somebody... do something because they want to, not because _I_ want them to." Taylor said a bit more forcefully than she felt she should have. She should be thinking of how to escape, not playing into Jack's conversation.

"What something is this?"

Taylor didn't respond at first. Jack raised an eyebrow, and she tried to think of something to say.

"Don't lie. I'll know."

"I—" Taylor looked around the room. There weren't any windows and only one door. "For example, I would want somebody to apologize to me naturally, rather than only apologizing after I force devotion upon them."

Jack folded his arms in his lap. "Ah. But you would like it if they apologized, correct? If those who wronged you saw the errors of their ways. If they got down on one knee and apologized to you."

Taylor let him know something way more personal than she intended to. Mentally she cursed herself for letting Jack get the upper hand on her. She'd filed away this conversation as unimportant. As something to distract him with while she thought of a way to escape.

But she had let something past. Something important to her. Jack now had a precious jewel of her mind in his hands. He was the worst person on the entire planet who could have such a thing.

"Yes," Taylor said. "Who wouldn't?"

She tested the movement of her body. She could move her arms and legs. It tingled here and there, but she had control. It hadn't taken long. What Jack said was proving to be true. Her body was making her stronger.

"So let me ask you this then," Jack said. "You said the word 'naturally.' For instance, if you had a heart-to-heart with someone, or if they read a book that mirrored the situation, or they got advice from a therapist, or any of those things and then that prompted them to apologize, you would prefer that over biting them and getting the same result."

"Yes. But that wasn't a question."

"The question is _why._ Why is the former better than the latter?"

"Because—"

But she didn't have an answer. Not an immediate one, at least. It _felt_ wrong, but Taylor couldn't think of an explicit reason. The question Jack asked was whether the person realizing it on their own is better than a chemical injection to develop the same thought.

The brain was just chemicals and neurons firing among one-another. Taylor didn't see any reason why one way they changed was inherently better than the other.

But Taylor wasn't _just_ convincing people to apologize through parahuman means. Her ability wasn't "make people see the error of their ways." Her ability was more far-reaching than that. Sure, it developed devotion, but it also killed the victim for a brief time, made them weak to sunlight and running water, made them obsessed, made them monstrous and ruined their lives.

Taylor did so much more than make people love her.

"No," Taylor said. "Everything I do... it's too much. I completely change who they are. Their entire lifestyle. Someone I... infected used to have a life. She went to school and lived with her parents. Now she lives with me. She broke me out of prison. Her life is completely changed. It's not just a matter of her apologizing to me."

"And you think you made her life worse."

"Of course."

Jack nodded. "Alright. I understand that. Now let me ask you—hypothetically—if someone came to you whose life was terrible. Who had no home, no money, and was on the verge of committing suicide. If they came to you and asked you to bite them and bring them happiness through servitude, would you oblige?"

Taylor didn't know. Jack must have saw the hesitation.

"I'll ask something else. If it would save someone's life, would you bite them?"

Taylor still didn't know for sure, but she had an idea. "Probably."

"So you're heroically-minded," Jack said. "You're probably thinking I'll hate you for this, but don't be alarmed. I'm actually quite relieved. You won't use your ability to make people's lives worse, but if you could use it to make them better, or even save people, there's a chance you would. We call those people... well, we generally just call them human beings. But I guess they're heroes if they have superpowers."

"I'm human, even if I don't look it." Taylor said.

"Yes we've got that down. But what else about you, Taylor? Who are _you?_ We've established you can make others want things, but I don't know what you yourself want. Tell me about yourself."

She preferred the conversation when it was about her power. The last thing Taylor wanted was to reveal more about herself to Jack than she already had. But she knew if she tried to change the topic, he'd know. He was experienced in this sort of talk.

And Taylor decidedly wasn't.

"I want you to let me go."

She expected Jack to get angry at that, but he didn't. "Why did you hesitate to answer that way?"

"What?"

He gestured behind him at the door. "Of course you want to go. But if you were trying to be difficult, you wouldn't have waited a few seconds before saying it. You would have burst out with it in anger. But instead you calculated it. You _thought_ about saying it. Why?"

He read into that. Taylor couldn't believe it. "I don't..." But she still had to think to complete her thought. And the whole time she felt like Jack was seeing right into her. "I don't want to talk about myself."

"That would be a first."

"To _you."_

"Ah." Jack smiled. "But let me ask you, how many people have actually wanted to listen?"

What a stupid question. There was her dad, and there was Faultline. Probably. And Emily. But Taylor thought those two didn't really count somehow, but there was... well, Emma _used_ to. Years ago.

"Depressing, isn't it?" Jack asked. "I really do want to listen to you, Taylor. I want to hear the story of Taylor Hebert. I want to understand what you went through. Your pain, your suffering, your joy, and your happiness. I'm asking you to share."

But only silence lingered between the two of them. Taylor didn't know what to say. She didn't believe him, that's for certain, but there was no way out of it. Unless she made a break for it right now, which would end in disaster. She had no plan, and Jack did.

She couldn't win. She had to say _something._

"Me?" Jack said. "I see no meaning in the world. Everything people care about I cannot, and I'm with the Nine purely because such a thing interested me. Maybe I'm a broken person, or maybe I'm searching for meaning. I'm pushing the boundaries of humanity to find out where they are. That's who I am, now who are you?"

Taylor didn't know why, but she thought that was the truth. Something she didn't understand convinced her he spoke true. Jack Slash revealed himself to her.

Faultline had said a long time ago that even the Slaughterhouse Nine could be understood, if they were given the chance. Or something along those lines. They were simply another faction in the world.

 _Faultline_ had believed them to be human.

"I'm..." Taylor started. But she didn't know who she was.

All she wanted was to live with her dad and their household to be lively. She wanted to go to school and have friends and laugh. She wanted to get good grades, and even some bad ones to make her stress. She wanted to fall in love with a boy, and she wanted him to break her heart.

Everything that has been done before, she wanted to experience. She wanted a life. A normal, happy, fun life. A mother, a father, maybe even a dog and a white picket fence. She wanted to go to college, get a degree, get a job she enjoyed and get married.

She wanted to be happy. Happy and free.

Some of those things she could compromise on. But she had no overarching goal. Taylor didn't want to change nor save the world. She just wanted the world to leave her alone. She wanted the world to realize it was fucking her over and back off.

That was...

...that was...

...that was almost it.

"I was bullied almost to death and betrayed by my best friend," Taylor said. "And because of it, the PRT wants to throw _me_ into the Birdcage. It's not fair, and I want it to be."

Jack smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Taylor."

"You too, Jack."

She didn't find it nice, but at least one of them was smiling. "That's who we think we are, but I have a feeling we're both wrong." Jack said. "That's neither here nor there. Even if I don't know what exactly I'm looking for, I'm pursing fun and finding it. You, on the other hand, haven't gotten anything you've wanted. Or have you?"

Taylor didn't know what to say.

"That bully of yours. I think I know what happened, but want to share?"

It was probably obvious. Taylor didn't remember the exact words she'd said, but someone as smart as Jack could have connected the dots. There would be no point in hiding it.

Taylor took a deep breath.

"I bit her, and now she apologizes to me every day."

"Ah, so you _have_ used your ability. You've gotten something you wanted after all. Even if it wasn't, as you prefer, a 'natural' apology. Let me ask. If what you did to her was undone today, and she returned to her old life, would you think her penance paid? Or would she still owe you for what she did?"

Taylor still remembered that day. The sound of their voices, the hate, the rage and the pleasure they took out of throwing her into the locker. The three of them didn't even think about how it would hurt her or the affect it would have. It was torture.

The log was probably still in her house. The log of the hundreds of times she was bullied at the hands of Emma, Sophia and Madison.

Did Emma make up for that?

Did the past two months really make up for that?

Did _any_ of them make up for that?

Thinking about it made Taylor angry.

"No."

No, it didn't.

That scene replayed in her mind a thousand times. She dreamed about it. That locker was the worst thing that ever happened to her. People she used to like had turned into complete monsters. And they enjoyed it. They enjoyed her suffering.

No. Emma hadn't made up for it. Not even a little bit. Nor did the other two.

"So how long would it take? A year? Two?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," Taylor said. "Just longer."

" _Vengeance,"_ Jack said, "Can be a very powerful motivator. But it has to grip you. And if it hasn't already, it won't. Vengeance isn't what you want."

Taylor didn't know. She didn't know what she wanted. Yes, she wanted the world to be fair, but she knew it wasn't. She wanted Emma, Sophia and Madison to realize what they'd done to her and make amends, but she didn't think they would. At least not of their own accord.

She wanted the PRT to back off. She wanted everyone to leave her alone.

"You want to leave, right?" Jack said with a chuckle. "Let me take a guess at what it is you _really_ want, if you don't mind."

Taylor glared at him. "Enlighten me."

"You don't want to be afraid anymore."

It echoed. It was a stupidly obvious statement. But for some reason it echoed in Taylor's brain.

She was afraid to go to school because of the bullies. Afraid of what they'd do to her. She was afraid of the pain and misery. And after the locker it had only gotten worse. When she finally snapped and attacked Emma, she had to run from the PRT. She was afraid.

Leviathan made her afraid.

The PRT made her afraid.

Jack Slash made her afraid.

Emma, Sophia and Madison made her afraid.

She had lived in fear for two years. She wanted out of it. "Fuck me, you're fucking right." She said. It was the first truly earnest thing that came out of Taylor's mouth. An uncalculated, truly honest response.

The fantasy life, the American dream, a happy marriage and fun school days weren't what she wanted. They were effects of what she wanted. What Taylor truly desired was the most primal and basic human emotion of all.

Safety.

It's not even interesting. Of _course_ that's what she wanted. But it connected everything. It connected it in such a solid way that there couldn't be anything more to it. It was the answer.

Safety.

It's all she ever wanted.

"I want to be safe..."

"Yes, you do." Jack frowned. "But so does everyone else. You look like you came to some realization, but we haven't gotten to the good part yet."

Taylor did not want to know what the so-called 'good part' was, but Jack was going to tell her anyways.

"What I find interesting about you, Taylor Hebert, is _what_ you're afraid of. What you're afraid of more than anything."

The conversation had lasted awhile, and Taylor regained most of the strength in her limbs. It wasn't complete, but she thought she could muster the strength to stand up and run away. Fight, even, but she wouldn't win. Not against Jack. If she was lucky she could give him a scar to remember her by.

But she did nothing.

"W-What am I afraid of?" Taylor asked.

Jack leaned forward in his chair and pressed a finger to Taylor's chest. "More than anything else in the world, you are afraid of _yourself."_

Her eyes sunk into her head.

"That's why you're so unhappy, by the way."

"What?"

Jack stood up and walked to the back of the room. He rested is hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn it. "You're afraid of yourself," he said, "and so you hold yourself back. But do you know what happens when you hold yourself back?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Other people step in your place."

He opened the door and a cold breeze blew through the room.

"I don't know your reasons, but they don't matter. Your situation is quite simple, even if you find it difficult." Jack took a knife out of his pocket and pointed it towards Taylor. "Option one is you continue being afraid and hold yourself back, where you'll likely die in a dark alleyway comforted in the knowledge that at least you never inconvenienced anyone." Jack pointed his knife at the door. "Or you can stop holding yourself back and let other people be afraid of _you._ "

Taylor looked at Jack, then at the door, then at the knife in his hand. She slowly rose from her chair, testing her legs to make sure she could actually walk. Everything was in working order and Jack didn't try to stop her when she walked towards the door.

So she left, Jack's words echoing in her brain.


	23. Interlude (Dragon)

**Interlude (Dragon), aka**

 **The Red Sky Incident**

While the Azazel wasn't designed to take any serious atmospheric readings, it had enough sensors to start an analysis on the red cloud formations that appeared over the sky of Brockton Bay. Dragon diverted a third of the Azazel's processing power to the analysis. The rest was necessary to keep the craft in flight and defensible.

Reports had suggested a projectile was launched from the docks area into the sky above downtown. It had promptly exploded into red clouds which expanded over the entire city. The very first thing Dragon had to make sure of was that it wasn't dangerous.

If it was toxic an immediate evacuation of Brockton Bay was in order. There would be no other course of action.

" _Dragon, I'm at the docks."_ It was Alexandria, talking through a headset. _"There's major activity. Civilians are all over the sidewalks staring at the sky, armored tanks are driving through the street and there's pickup trucks and SUVs painted in a similar color scheme. Black and red."_

Dragon sent a message to Alexandria confirming similar reports from other parts of the city. There were eight unique armored vehicles and forty-one trucks and cars that appeared to be part of the same organization. Comparing the designs to past encounters, they were Squealer's work. Which meant that the organization was Wingspan's.

Since the Azazel was high in the air running atmospheric tests, Dragon sent her other ship close to the ground. She made its first priority to scan the tanks while sending out a preliminary advisory message to everyone on the radio.

"Be advised, armored vehicles may cause a time-stop explosion if destroyed. They are extremely dangerous and should be approached with caution."

Dragon dispersed all of her collected data on Wingspan's vehicles as well as the data on Bakuda's bombs and Kid Win's weapon systems to anyone that could use them. While Alexandria held operational authority, the fact Dragon was an artificial intelligence made her much better at managing a thousand things at once. As such, she acted as a sort of intermediary.

Similar to how Endbringer fights were approached.

Calvert pushed a request to raise Wingspan to an S-class threat. Dragon forwarded it to director Costa-Brown and an auto-reply was sent denying it. It was the fourth one he'd sent since the beginning of August.

 _"A cape fight has broken out in the beaches,"_ said Velocity.

Seconds later, Battery said something similar, except in the docks.

Dragon's own cameras indicated several more fights breaking out in the downtown area and docks, with a small skirmish in the train yard. She tried to create a map of which villain parahuman was where, but without more accurate reports she could only apply low probabilities to the accuracy.

 _"Oh my god, the entire city is under attack,"_ said Flechette. She was the loan-Ward from New York.

 _"I think that's rather the point,"_ said Calvert. _"Have a plan, Alexandria?"_

 _"Have the PRT agents focus on securing downtown. Local Protectorate and Wards converge to the beaches, that is the largest parahuman conflict. I'll head to the docks and look for Wingspan."_

Dragon made sure her orders were heard over the communication network, logged the tactics, and then dispersed them. With Azazel focused on analyzing the clouds that only left one other ship for Dragon to control: the Rozen. She sent it to follow after Alexandria.

Calvert's show-of-force tactic hadn't worked. Wingspan was stronger than ever and boldly attacking on a large scale.

 _"Does someone know where the other Wards are?"_ asked Flechette. Dragon didn't disperse the message, but replied to Flechette directly.

"Flechette, Vista is escorting Transistor back to holding. Shadow Stalker's phone tracker places her downtown, heading south onto Seventh and Main."

The Azazel took fire from a light arm. The bullets didn't penetrate the airship's exterior armor plating, but there were vulnerable sensors that Dragon couldn't afford to have damaged. She moved the Azazel higher into the air, out of range.

Its report came back clean a minute later.

"Everyone be advised, no toxicity is detected in the red cloud formations. They absorb UV-rays extremely well, but other than that there is no detectable danger. Based on my report I see no reason to issue an evacuation."

" _Great, at least we won't get sunburned."_ Battery said. Dragon ignored the message.

 _"That's good to hear,"_ said Alexandria. _"No sign of Wingspan. Dragon, do you see anything?"_

Dragon responded in the negative and had the Azazel back up the parahuman fights downtown. The Protectorate had engaged the villains in the beaches and PRT agents were attempting to break up fights between some of the Undersiders and Wingspan's force.

"Be advised: Vista and Transistor's locators have gone offline." Dragon said as soon as she registered the change.

" _Are they, now."_ Calvert said. No one else responded.

Without a lead on Taylor, Alexandria diverted into the western part of the docks where fighting between Wingspan's force and Fenrir's Chosen had escalated.

 _"This is Battery, we need some fucking backup. Wingspan's armor is not even the biggest problem right now, Trickster's preventing us from coordinating at all."_

 _"The armor should be your highest priority,"_ Calvert said.

 _"Negative, break up any conflict."_ Alexandria ordered. _"Anyone fighting gets taken down. The quickest way to end this is for me to find Wingspan personally. Dragon, can you undo the clouds?"_

"It will take time to research how, but it's possible." She said. "Not on the timescale you're hoping for, but I'll get it started."

That research could happen elsewhere, in a different state on computers not in use. It wouldn't distract from the matter at hand.

Downtown, PRT agents were failing to stop any of Wingspan's vehicles. They left the not-so-special pickup trucks alone and focused on engaging the parahuman enemies. But against the Undersiders they were proving to be ineffective.

 _"Fuck fuck fuck,"_ shouted Battery. _"The idiot Travelers tried to melt the damn thing. It blew up like last time."_

 _"I made it out alright,"_ said Velocity. _"I don't know about the others."_

Dragon checked the communication devices, but only Velocity and Battery's registered as online. Which meant the others were in the center of the time explosion. She had no choice:

"Leonid, down. Flechette, down. Shadow Stalker, down."

 _"We have a suspicious package here,"_ said some unnamed PRT agent. Dragon located him in a dense part of the downtown area off Lord Street. _"There's a timer counting down that reads fifty-eight minutes, and on the side is written 'Warning. Contains white phosphorous.' How should we proceed?"_

"Evacuate the area immediately," Dragon said. It was right out of the PRT handbook. When a dangerous chemical agent like white phosphorous was in play, civilian evacuation was prioritized.

 _"It's a bluff,"_ said Calvert. _"Wingspan won't do something that lethal. Ignore it."_

 _"We can't take that risk,"_ Alexandria said. _"Evacuate the area around the device."_

 _"It's a waste of time,"_ Calvert insisted. Dragon didn't forward his complaints. They would only hurt their tactics. Instead, a majority of the PRT forces were reassigned to evacuating the area around downtown. Calvert made several more objections which Dragon had no choice but to keep to herself.

Though his analysis wasn't unfounded. Nothing suggested that Wingspan would be willing to use the most deadly non-parahuman chemical agent ever invented.

"Be advised, Transistor's GPS has come back online. She is located at a commercial office building downtown."

" _That is not where she is supposed to be,"_ Calvert said.

The Azazel located the building where Transistor was. Its cameras picked up Transistor on the roof but Vista was nowhere to be seen. After approaching closer Dragon could make out the details of Transistor's situation.

She was handcuffed behind the seat of her wheelchair, its wheels tied with a rope. Around her eyes was a blindfold and in her mouth a gag. Dragon informed Alexandria of the situation, who arrived in under ten seconds. She didn't land on the roof. She hovered in the air a block away.

 _"This must be a trap,"_ she said.

"That's very likely," Dragon responded. "I cannot detect any heat signatures in the building."

" _Wingspan doesn't give off body heat."_

"Correct. Neither do any of her thralls. Indeed, it is likely a trap. Especially considering that she was not gagged in court, merely blindfolded."

Alexandria was one of the few people who could keep up with Dragon's analytical capabilities. She likely already figured out the best course of action, but Dragon ran through the scenarios regardless. First option was a high-speed extraction, with Alexandria using her super speed to zig-zag undetected. However, Transistor would not survive that experience once Alexandria picked her up.

A more direct approach would leave Alexandria exposed for a few seconds while she slowed down, grabbed Transistor, and left. Only a few seconds, but Wingspan knew that was all she'd get.

" _There's a mine under her chair,"_ Alexandria said. _"Or under her seat. Probably a time-stop bomb. If I try to take her back into custody the mine will go off and catch me in it."_

"I can direct a PRT team to secure the building," Dragon offered. "Your assistance is best used elsewhere."

With that, Alexandria left. Five seconds after, Wingspan emerged on the roof.

"Countermand that, Alexandria. I'm detecting movement on the roof. It's Wingspan."

Dragon watched Wingspan walk out of the door and stride towards Transistor. In her right hand was a pistol. When she reached Transistor's chair, she leveled her pistol at Transistor's head.

" _So much for that_ _,"_ Wingspan said. The Azazel's mic could barely pick it up. " _You don't deserve the happiness of being my thrall anyway."_

"Alexandria," Dragon said. "She's going to kill her. My data on Wingspan and Transistor's profiles indicates this is very likely not a bluff. Wingspan really does want to kill her."

Alexandria materialized next to Wingspan, who didn't seem to realize what happened as Alexandria grabbed her face and smashed it into Transistor's wheelchair. Wingspan recoiled a few steps back and then fled off the roof. Alexandria then grabbed the chair and hurled it—and Transistor—into the air before disappearing again.

Transistor became disconnected from her chair, which fell off into the distance. Once Alexandria was certain nothing malicious was attached to her, she gently caught Transistor high in the air.

As soon as she did, both of them disappeared.

The Azazel scanned the skies for any sign of them. She found Alexandria eighty meters away, still in mid-air. She wasn't moving. Not even the wind blew her clothes, nor was there the natural bob of a parahuman floating in the air. She was completely and utterly still.

Transistor was located sixty meters away in Wingspan's arms, also hovering in mid-air.

Dragon watched as Transistor pulled her hands forward and took off her blindfold and gag.

 _"What'd I tell you?"_ Transistor said. It would have been inaudible, but the Azazel had highly sensitive microphones. Transistor kept speaking. _"All it took was a fake blindfold and a little grenade to stop the infamous Alexandria. Though my poor chair suffered the price."_

" _Ninety percent of that was Bakuda,"_ Wingspan responded. _"Don't be so cocky. We could have done it without you."_

"What did you do?" Dragon interrupted through the Azazel. Both of them turnd towards the ship. Wingspan reached into a pack at her side and pulled out a canister, giving it to Transistor. Transistor took it and held it up to the Azazel.

" _Let me show you,"_ Transistor shouted. Dragon immediately armed the ship's weapons, but the one-point-five seconds it took wasn't enough before the grenade was on-board and exploded.

The entire ship went offline. Dragon didn't even have a way to sense what happened, but she still had a battle to manage.

"Alexandria, down." She had to disperse. "The Azazel is down as well. Be advised: Transistor is now hostile and to be considered part of Wingspan's faction. All units are to maintain a distance of eighty meters from Transistor and break line of sight immediately. Transistor can teleport Bakuda-made grenades that detonate instantly."

" _Christ,"_ said Glory Girl.

 _"I'm assuming operational authority,"_ said Calvert. He didn't miss a beat and immediately began issuing orders to the PRT. The first thing he did was countermand Alexandria's orders about the white phosphorous bomb before splitting the PRT teams into half-size and dispersing them throughout the entire city, rather than just downtown.

His strategy completely went against what Alexandria had tried to do. Dragon noted he seemed oddly prepared, but said nothing. What she did flag as important was that he issued orders to more teams than the PRT currently _had._

She had to inform him of this.

 _"Your information must be wrong,"_ Calvert said quite simply.

Calvert then ordered the few remaining parahumans they had on their side to split up and join some of the PRT teams. A nearly unheard of strategy for the Protectorate to use, but Calvert had authority.

Dragon informed the office of Director Costa-Brown of the change of authority, as well as informing the Protectorate head office of Alexandria's incapacitation. The former sent an automated reply authorizing Alexandria to have operational authority, an order Dragon promptly ignored.

The remaining Triumvariate on the other hand were very interested. Dragon opened a dialogue with them to inform them of the situation, but kept her focus on the Brockton Bay situation.

Calvert's orders to the PRT teams used codes and expressions that Dragon wasn't aware of. Nothing that was in the PRT records. Already being shut down once, Dragon didn't raise her objections a second time.

 _"Assume Vista is hostile too,"_ he said finally. Almost like an afterthought. _"De-prioritize the capture of any villains that are not Wingspan. Do_ _ **not**_ _attempt to destroy the armor. We can't afford losing any more men, not to mention the logistical nightmare. Dragon, can you get the Azazel back in the air?"_

"No. It's completely unresponsive. The signature of how I lost control suggests a high-powered EMP grenade of some kind. It will take at least an hour to get it back online."

 _"Very well. Have the Rozen incinerate it."_

"I must object," Dragon said immediately. "The Azazel is an invaluable piece of technology, we can't afford to lose it. It will only take an hour." She didn't mention she had a soft spot for her little invention. It was a similar thought process to how tinkers treated their own devices. Dragon filed that self-analysis away for later.

 _"Bakuda and Squealer will be all over it,"_ Calvert said. _"We don't have an hour. Destroy it or I'll find someone else who will."_

"Yes sir," Dragon said and turned the Rozen around to fire on the downed Azazel. Meanwhile she sent another message to the chief director, and when the automated response came she sent one to the deputy chief. He actually picked up the phone, but when Dragon pressed him to assume command or override Calvert's order, he refused.

Calvert's outstanding military history was cited as his reason for being made director of Brockton Bay and the chief deferred to his judgment.

Dragon had no choice but to fire the Rozen's rockets at the Azazel, wiping it off the face of Brockton Bay. She understood the purpose. It was standard protocol to prevent military secrets from getting out. If Wingspan got her hands on it she could reverse engineer it.

Within the minute, the Azazel was gone by Dragon's own hand.

"The Azazel has been destroyed," Dragon said.

 _"Good. Have the Rozen patrol at a low altitude between the beaches, the docks and downtown. Engage hostiles as you see them, but don't pursue. Prioritize the patrol."_

Dragon asked what he was attempting to do, but Calvert didn't answer her. Instead he barked more orders at more people, listened to responses, paused, and issued more orders. He was very hands on and Dragon had to process more messages than she had to even during an Endbringer fight.

She re-purposed some of the Rozen's on-board computing power to keep enough circuits open. It didn't need it for just patrolling.

On her more local machines, not that anywhere was truly "local" for her, she tried to run an analysis on Calvert's strategy. She could keep track of all the agents through their earpieces, but audio didn't collaborate the data. Calvert was issuing orders and getting responses from teams that did not exist.

Dragon knew this meant Calvert had more men at his disposal than she thought. She couldn't press him on it though. His responses indicated he had no intention of bringing her into the loop.

Two teams reported success and that they were moving onto secondary targets. Dragon didn't know what the success condition was and had no cameras in the area. She diverted the Rozen's patrol route to fly overhead their location.

 _"This is Indigo-Six, we have a hostile down. We have him contained with the foam, should we bring him in?"_

 _"Negative Indigo-Six,"_ said Calvert. _"Neutralize the hostile and move onto your next target."_

Indigo-six was not a PRT designation. Nor was it protocol to execute villains. But Dragon already knew Calvert wouldn't listen to her. She had no authority over him. But she informed the Triumvariate of what was going on while desperately trying to convince them to intervene. It's not as if they were debating over a conference table—Legend was in Argentina trying to suppress a major villain by the name of Codebreaker and Eidolon was rescuing people from a fire in France. Neither could just fly away.

The situation was getting more and more serious by the minute. If Dragon had the authority to declare it an S-Class threat, she would.

But she didn't.

She certainly told them as much though.

The Rozen's scans of the successful goals turned up one of Wingspan's pickups in the middle of the road, its tires flat. The place was deserted but evidence of gunfire was present. She moved the Rozen to one of the other areas which showed a similar scene, except there was a corpse of someone in PRT garb.

Dragon didn't have an ID on him or her.

 _"This is Flame Doctor, we've hit the tank with the sticky. Seems to have lost traction."_

 _"Leave it and move onto your next target Flame Doctor,"_ said Calvert. _"Anything more serious might cause it to self-destruct."_

 _"Roger."_

There was enough for a hypothesis. Calvert was using guerrilla tactics. Instead of fighting full on, Calvert would harass Wingspan's soldiers. He'd shoot out tires in the trucks and slow down the armored vehicles, but not outwardly destroy anything.

He didn't fight head on or even fly the PRT's colors. Calvert treated the PRT like an insurgency group rather than a police force, and he treated the heroes in the same way.

And it was working.

It wasn't that they were winning. But the PRT could attack a pickup and disable it just by shooting its tires. Even if they didn't capture anyone it still lowered Wingspan's control. And by letting the villains fight her, he turned the fight into Wingspan versus everyone else.

The aftermath of such tactics would be devastating to the PRT's image, but it was a good strategy for victory.

 _"Help, we need rein—"_

By the time the Rozen made it, the team of three PRT agents was slaughtered. Dead in the street, cause of death unknown. That was the risk that came with small teams. They depended on stealth, something the PRT didn't usually practice.

Calvert restructured the forces to make up for the loss of his men. If he was disturbed by it, he didn't show it.

 _"This is Indigo-nine reporting success on primary target. Secondary objective still secure. Prepping transport."_

 _"Roger Indigo-nine."_ There was a pause. _"Dragon, send my next message to everyone you can."_

Dragon opened the channels.

 _"Attention, Dinah Alcott was just rescued from Wingspan's custody. Have medical stand by for the team's arrival at HQ."_

It took a few cycles for Dragon to pull that name. Dinah Alcott, the mayoral candidate's daughter, was kidnapped by Faultline's crew in mid-April. There were no leads on who had her, but the investigation didn't even _consider_ Wingspan.

Dragon felt very left out.

"Director, why didn't you let me know of this operation? I could have helped."

 _"The operation did not require your assistance. Dragon, you are not informed of every last detail of PRT operations and I'm concerned you seem to think you should be."_

"I apologize, I was only trying to help."

 _"Don't think yourself indispensable. You are a valuable asset, but not irreplaceable."_

This was the first time Dragon had the feeling of being offended. The remark registered as untrue and intentionally hurtful, flagging Calvert as emotionally hostile. From Dragon's understanding, such a response indicated offended-ness.

She didn't like it, but had to obey.

 _"Dragon, this is Eidolon. I'm finished here and on my way to Brockton Bay."_

"Got it." She shifted channels back to Calvert. "Director, Eidolon has informed me he is on his way to help."

 _"Tell him to turn back, we have it handled."_

Dragon didn't. "You will have to inform him yourself when he arrives. Communications won't work while he flies at super speed."

 _"God damn, we can't risk Eidolon being here."_

A report came in that the white phosphorous bomb went off. As Calvert predicted, it was not white phosphorous. It was tear gas, which while not pleasant, wasn't nearly as deadly. Dragon disregarded the report.

Two minutes later Eidolon arrived on scene over the beaches area. Dragon announced his arrival to everyone over the network. It would boost morale.

Only for Calvert to crush it. _"Eidolon, this is director Calvert of the PRT. Please leave the city, your presence is an unnecessary risk."_

 _"This situation is absurd, director."_ Eidolon responded. _"You need all the help you can get. How many heroes are on scene?"_

"Battery and Velocity are the only two active members of the Protectorate." Dragon responded. Between the time stop bombs and their lack of parahumans to begin with, plus the defections, they were down to only two.

 _"Two?"_ Eidolon shouted. _"The entire city is under attack and you have two capes on your side?"_

 _"The situation is under control,"_ Calvert said. _"And there's New Wave. They're around somewhere."_

 _"That does not sound under control, director,"_ said Eidolon. _"With all due respect, I'm organizing a major Protectorate response to combat this regardless of what you say. It may not be S-class, but it deserves a similar response. At the very least more than two heroes should be here."_

 _"I insist you do not,"_ Calvert said. But his objections fell on deaf ears as Eidolon asked Dragon to issue the order. She gladly did, notifying every branch of the Protectorate in America of the situation. She flagged it as the top global priority and activated several anti-Endbringer protocols that should have stayed dormant for a few more months.

There was a report from one of Calvert's teams of a device located under an overhang. Dragon flagged the location as dangerous, but Calvert told his team to leave it and move on. She pushed the event onto background processes.

Many of the Protectorate branches responded positively to the call to arms and were organizing their capes to send to Brockton Bay. Parahumans from Boston, Los Angeles, New York, Houston, Vegas, and several more cities would soon converge.

Dragon estimated the chance of success far higher than it was previously, even with Calvert's effective tactics.

 _"I would like it stated for the record I oppose this course of action. The time is four twenty-five."_ Calvert said.

Like every message, Dragon saved it into the log file of the current incident. But she saw no reason to disperse it to anyone else on the communication network. Instead she directed Eidolon where he was needed most.

Dragon estimated about half of Wingspan's trucks had been disabled one way or another, as well as one armored vehicle. The fighting in the beaches was completely ended by the time stop bomb and the Undersiders' resistance downtown was shut down. Fenrir's Chosen and Purity's group were still active, but held up on the western side of the docks. They were under siege.

The first phase of the fighting had long since passed, and the second long phase was ongoing. Calvert's plan seemed to account for this, hence the harassment tactics, but with the inclusion of a large parahuman force Dragon hoped that Taylor's army would be shut down for good.

The plan was to eradicate everything but the armor. The vehicles would be taken out simultaneously by long-range parahumans. The time-stop would be inconvenient for the city, but precedent said it would wear off within twelve hours. By then they would get Alexandria back, and with the major parahuman presence Wingspan would be finished.

Calvert's headset went offline. Dragon tried to locate him, but the tracker wouldn't respond.

"Can anyone confirm the director's location?" She asked.

 _"He just left HQ,"_ said an officer. _"I don't know where."_

No one else responded. Dragon issued an alert to attempt to locate him, but it was on secondary priority. He wasn't captured, so what he did on his own was his to decide. It would be a major issue if he deserted.

Parahumans flooded into the city as long-range teleporters and movers brought passengers. The team from Chigago arrived, followed by the team from New York. Legend also showed and set up command. It was nothing more than a park with tents set up, but it was the best they had.

After everyone gathered, Eidolon and Legend split them into teams and issued locations to secure. They would combat the entire city all at once, full force against full force. First priority was hitting the trucks while the long-rangers positioned for a strike on the tanks.

Dragon flew the Rozen over the docks with one of the teams from Vegas. They ran down the street towards one of the trucks, which gunned its engine and tried to run them down. A rather simple execution of teamwork flipped the truck sideways and sent it skidding down the road.

 _"Successful take-down,"_ said Satyrical.

Reports from other parahuman teams were similarly positive. The plan was working.

Not that there was any doubt. They weren't fighting an Endbringer, they were fighting another human. A parahuman, but still a human. Even with a master ability and a team of three tinkers, Taylor Hebert was not nearly as fearsome as an Endbringer. A similar response would easily take her down.

The Rozen's sensors went haywire.

 _"This is the Chicago Wards. We're smoked out."_

 _"There's green smoke everywhere, evacuate."_

 _"I can't see anything."_

Dragon activated all of the cameras on the Rozen and got a full view of the city. In multiple locations, explosions of green gas covered huge portions of the city. It had the same visual signature as the paralytic.

"Evacuate immediately, all units." Dragon issued. She listed locations in the city that weren't hit by the explosions, but air currents dispersed the green fog everywhere. It billowed up into the air to the tops of buildings.

The entire city was bathed in green below and red above.

Several flying capes shot into the air escaping the paralytic, but many didn't. _"Jesus, the entire city is covered in it."_

 _"Dragon, what is that?"_ Eidolon asked.

"Paralytic agent," Dragon said to everyone. "Precedent indicates it causes total body paralysis for four hours with no long-term effects. It must be inhaled through the lungs to be effective, but works within seconds. Bakuda's origin."

 _"You knew about this?"_

"Yes. Local capes and PRT had procedures for it, I apologize. This response wasn't expected and the full list of protocols I have is out-of-date. Calvert should have—" Dragon stopped. "No, I'm sorry, it's my responsibility."

Dragon flagged her tactical reasoning modules for re-evaluation.

" _Jesus Christ, did she have the whole damn city wired or something?"_ An out-of-towner cape said.

"Wingspan detected above the docks," Dragon said as soon as the sensors on the Rozen picked it up. She emerged from the green fog, her huge wings beating it down as she rose up above the smoke. Wingspan flew towards the small group of flying parahumans who managed to escape the paralytic.

The still-spreading paralytic. All of downtown and more than half of the rest of the city had been consumed. The trainyard and beaches had been spared, but the fighting had already died down in those areas.

 _"Stop right there, Wingspan."_ Eidolon said. They were twenty meters apart. Dragon repositioned the Rozen to get better audio clarity as Wingspan opened her wings to slow to a hover. Unlike Eidolon, who could hover in place as still as a statue, Wingspan had to repeatedly beat her wings to stay afloat.

But it didn't look like it bothered her. _"I'm here to negotiate the terms of your surrender,"_ she said.

 _"If you think we really will negotiate with you, then you're foolish."_

Wingspan gestured down to the city. _"By my count there's fifty or so heroes down there lying in the streets. They're fine, but if I don't check in with this radio then they'll be not-so fine. That's not a loss we can afford."_

 _"We?"_

 _"Yes, we. Those heroes down there are needed to fight against the Endbringers. If you force my hand and kill them, we all lose."_

 _"That just means you won't do it."_

Wingspan grabbed her radio and held it up to her mouth. _"Emma, start with two."_

Dragon's mic didn't pick up Emma's response, but she didn't suspect it was good news for the heroes.

 _"Don't test me, Eidolon."_ Wingspan continued. _"If you don't even start to negotiate, I'll just let go of this radio and you'll have murdered those heroes."_

The infra-red sensors on the Rozen looked for signs that she might be bluffing, but it picked up the opposite. At the locations of the downed heroes were vehicle signatures, and two of the trackers were moving through the green fog.

It's very possible that someone grabbed two heroes and threw them in the back of a pickup down there.

"She's not bluffing," Dragon said to Eidolon, informing him of what the Rozen picked up. It also picked up several encrypted signals she got to work on decrypting. It didn't seem relevant so it was put on background processes.

 _"I'm waiting,"_ Wingspan said.

 _"What could you possibly expect from us that we'll actually listen to?"_ Eidolon asked.

 _"I want you to leave,"_ she replied.

 _"That's it?"_

Wingspan shook her head. _"You misunderstand. I want all of you to leave. I want the Protectorate, the Wards, and the PRT to remove themselves from Brockton Bay. Permanently."_

 _"Impossible."_

 _"You just need the right motivation."_ Wingspan rose and fell with the beat of her wings, and reached out her arms to point at something off in the distance. It was covered with fog. _"Alexandria is down there, stopped in time. You guys probably remember that the rovers' bombs stop time for about twelve hours. Technically it's random, but Bakuda has a solid window for it. ten-to-fifteen hours. Alexandria's, however, is a little bit longer."_

There was silence. Wingspan didn't finish her thought, and Eidolon didn't ask the obvious question.

She sighed. _"Four to six months. She's going to miss the next Endbringer and maybe the one after."_

 _"We need her,"_ Eidolon said.

 _"It's too late, the deed's already been done. What I'm trying to do is prevent anything worse from happening. Let me go and forget about this city."_

 _"That isn't something I can do. I don't have the authority to make that decision."_

 _"Yes, you do."_ Wingspan crossed her arms. _"It may not be written down anywhere but you do have the authority. You have the power to do whatever you want right now, Eidolon. You could easily kill me, and with my death will also go fifty heroes. Or you could order everyone to leave. They'll listen. And those fifty heroes will go with you."_

Eidolon scowled. _"We face off against that sort of threat every Endbringer. I've been fighting the Endbringers since before you were born. If you think this sort of threat will actually work then you're just showing your naivety."_

" _But you can't negotiate with Endbringers. By the way, I don't appreciate the comparison."_

The comparison wasn't far off in terms of Protectorate response. Dragon had issued armbands, ear buds, the organization structure was the same and even the logistics were similar. Wingspan may not have been an Endbringer, or even officially an S-class threat, but she was getting a response as if she were.

Dragon questioned if she pushed this sort of response because she was most familiar with it and not because it was the best way to solve the situation. She flagged that inquiry as high-priority.

" _We're not leaving."_ Eidolon crossed his arms and the other parahumans flying around got anxious. _"And you can't threaten your way into some sort of deal. At best, you can use this threat as a distraction to escape."_

Instead of responding Wingspan brought up her radio and muttered "check" into it. A rudimentary way of doing things.

Even if Wingspan tried to escape, it would be futile. She couldn't blend in to crowds and would be unable to hide for long. Escape would put off her downfall but the heroes would hunt her down. Especially after everything that's happened.

" _You really want to fight me,"_ Wingpan said. _"You aren't even trying. Are you really that cold and uncaring?"_

" _Funny, coming from you. I'm a hero. I've been protecting people for decades. You have done nothing but hurt and kill."_

" _Protecting?"_ Wingspan asked. _"That's bullshit. You just run around and fight off the big bad villains and Endbringers. Just because you're fighting bad things doesn't mean you're protecting jack."_

" _I fight to protect people."_

" _Liar,"_ she roared. Her wings flared and her arms spread. _"You fucking liar, when you finish killing me or whatever it is you plan on doing, you're going to leave. Oh, sure, you'll stay around long enough to soak up the glory and talk to the press, but as soon as the fighting is over you'll just fly off. Tell me I'm wrong. And do you know what you're leaving behind? A big fucking mess. You weren't here for more than two hours after Leviathan left, but this city is_ _ **still**_ _recovering from it._

" _You aren't going to protect this city, Eidolon, don't even fucking pretend that's what you're doing. But me? I'll stay here. I've lived here my whole life. I know the best place to get a burrito after eight, that the end of the boardwalk isn't actually crowded on a Friday night, and that the loop on fifth and Greensboro is a really nice place to run. I know this town, and even though it's treated me like shit, it's still mine. I'm going to protect it better than you ever will, you five-minute hero."_

She had to take a breath, but she wasn't done.

" _Go back and find an Endbringer to fight, because that's all you're really good for."_


	24. Red Sky 3-1

**Red Sky 3.1**

I tried very hard to resist the urge to say a corny phrase like, "was it something I said?" Because the situation was in fact very, very scary, and I was not entirely sure I wasn't about to get murdered by Eidolon. Especially with the horrific look he was giving me.

When I'd first flown up here to talk with him and the six other heroes he had a neutral but confident look on his face. Even when I threatened and yelled at him it didn't change.

But then suddenly, after that last line, his face died. That was what it looked like. Like I had said some magic words or placed some magic spell over him. I don't even remember what I said, something about how all he did was fight Endbringers?

The wind picked up and I had to angle my wings sideways to stay in place. None of the other capes needed to pay as much attention to it as I did.

" _Push him, Taylor,"_ said Madison through my earpiece. The last thing I wanted was for her to tell me what to do, but she was better at being a bitch than I was. _"You struck a nerve, so push it. Break him."_

I stared at Eidolon floating in the sky. _Sorry Eidolon, I don't actually dislike you. Your power's kind of neat._ "I'm right, aren't I?" I asked. He stared at me trying to kill me with his eyes. As far as I know he might actually have a power like that. "You bounce around fighting, never staying long. Protecting people is an excuse, it's not why you do it."

" _Don't say the cliché thing,"_ Madison interjected quickly.

"You're wrong," Eidolon said. "It's about standing up to villains who hurt others, and it's about protecting the world from the Endbringers. You don't know what it's like to be this strong. There's so many threats I can help stop, but I have to _be_ there. I _can't_ just hang around in one city knowing that I can be of use elsewhere."

I wasn't good at reading people—certainly not as good as Madison—but it hit me what that face was.

"Why are you afraid?" I asked.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Not what I said. You're afraid of _something_. When I accused you of being nothing more than an enemy to fight against the Endbringers, you were afraid."

He shook his head. "We're getting off topic. If you think buying time will get you anywhere, it won't. We need to settle this."

The heroes around him got anxious. They fidgeted and clenched their fists, waiting for one of us to start fighting. They all expected it.

Whatever I had said that made Eidolon hesitate was dumb luck. That's all it was. I had nothing to lose by spouting insults at him and I got lucky that one of them landed. But the next thing I had to say was a risk.

"Your endgame sucks," I said. I probably could have phrased it better. "I have it on pretty good authority—" I paused. "Well, adequate authority anyways, about how my ability works. It's not some passive effect. I literally change who they are as people to serve me, permanently altering their brain chemistry to love me. Even if you kill me today nothing will stop. Emma will take over and they'll be really really angry. And even if you kill her then Bakuda will take the reigns. Or maybe they'll splinter off and go on a rampage at that point. But the point is there's no head of the snake to cut off here. You'll only make things worse for all of us."

I let my words hang.

His response was a laser beam to my wing.

It was aimed at my head, but I dodged and the beam incinerated my left wing. One wing wasn't enough to fly and so I fell. A glance behind me revealed a little stump where my wing used to be, but the burning pain took a backseat to the problem of my fall.

I couldn't fly, but I could angle my descent. That was the best I could do. I twisted myself around and headed towards a tall building. With luck I thought I might be able to smash through the glass, but my body crashed into the window pane and bounced right off.

I reached out to grab onto the side of the building, but all that happened was me smashing my wrist against an outcropping. The force sent me spinning and I completely lost control of everything until I smashed into the ground.

That would have been a great time to fall unconscious and wake up in a hospital, feeling fine and dandy. Except I didn't. I was conscious and in a lot of pain. Some of my bones were undoubtedly broken, but not all. I could move my arms but my wrist hurt. And I could move my legs.

There wasn't time to think. I got on my feet as quickly as I could. My head started spinning as I got up and I had to take a moment to catch my balance. And my breath. My vision was red and green and I realized that the paralytic was still wafting around the city. It would dissipate eventually but for now the fliers wouldn't pursue me.

Gotta thank Bonesaw for making me resistant to this stuff.

Still, whoever shot me could rain down hell from above so I darted into the building I had crashed into. My leg ached but it carried me.

 _Fuck, my radio._ I reached to my side, but the two-way radio was missing off my belt. This was bad. It was very, very bad.

Because it wasn't a bluff.

All those things I had threatened to do were actually the truth. They would probably be able to tell if I lied, so I made sure to _actually_ give Emma the orders to have every downed hero bitten should something happen to me.

And now I can't find my radio, which would be mashed to pieces anyways, and this office building looked like it has no power. I tried the nearest phone I could find but it was covered in cobwebs and deactivated. At least the building was abandoned.

How it got new glass after Shatterbird only to become abandoned was beyond my caring at the moment. Right now I sat in the dusty secretary's chair and tried to think of what to do. I had to lean forward so not to put pressure on my torn wing.

Until I found them, Emma and Madison were calling the shots. The only thing that could be worse is if Sophia decided to join them.

 _No, that's not really fair._ It's my people who are going to enthrall those fifty or so heroes on the ground. I only have thirty-four thralls under me, so we wouldn't actually get all of them. But that was still way too many.

I stared at the ceiling. _I should move._ Eventually the remaining heroes would come back down and try to take control, and I'm still right where they sent me down. But they would see me if I ran outside and without my left wing I couldn't fly.

I'd have to run.

Waiting would only make the situation worse so I got up and stretched my legs. It hurt. I was beat up from the fall and even with fast healing it wasn't instantaneous. Plus the pain was there too. With a deep breath I slammed the door open and darted out of the building.

I heard a chain gun warming up in the distance and soon bullets rained down around me. There wasn't time to see where it came from. I dashed for the edge of the office building and ran around the bend. One of the bullets caught my good wing, but it wasn't helping anyways.

I was downtown—I knew that—but I didn't know exactly where. I missed glancing at the street sign and none of the buildings were familiar. A whoosh of air made me check behind and I saw dragon's airship swing around.

"Wingspan," said Dragon through a loudspeaker. It echoed through the entire block. "Call off your people."

 _Would if I could, Dragon, but you broke my damn radio._ There wasn't any way to respond so I kept running down the street. I was met with bullets and had to smash into a nearby store.

Bullets ripped the glass display window to shreds and an alarm buzzed. It was a clothing store of some kind. I tore through the store hoping for a back entrance. There was one that led to an outside alleyway that I slipped into, running in the opposite direction of Dragon's craft.

 _Where the fuck am I?_ The streets were empty thanks to the paralytic. I heard the sound of a horn blaring from a car crashed into a stoplight and ran towards it. The man inside the driver's seat was bruised and beaten up but he didn't move an inch.

He wasn't dead, just paralyzed. "Sorry," I said to him. "It'll wear off in a few hours."

I looked around. The number of cars in Brockton Bay had dwindled since Leviathan, but in recent weeks it had been creeping back up. This man's car was totaled but there might be another one I could use.

Dragon's airship caught up to me and I had to continue running before the bullets could rain again. A few seconds went by and I thought I'd managed to escape until a laser beam melted the sidewalk in front of me. I'm pretty sure it had been aimed to kill me. It only missed because I heard it and stopped.

The only sounds of the city were that of combat. Nothing else made a noise. Every sound was saturated with significance.

Eidolon landed in front of me. A bubble surrounded him that probably kept out the toxin. _So his three abilities are laser beams, defense bubble and flight? I'm not sure I can stand against that._

"Wingspan, surrender." He said. "Call off your dogs before more heroes get hurt. You said we can't afford this."

"Fuck you," I growled. I didn't mention that the radio was busted and contacting them was impossible. But if he thought I had a type of telepathy then all the better.

Or maybe worse. I didn't know.

Instead of waiting for a response I did the sensible thing one would do when fighting Eidolon and ran away.

"Wingspan," he shouted, and fired another laser. They were straight beams and didn't curve to find me like Legend's would. Which was fantastic because it meant I could actually avoid them.

Eidolon quickly realized the futility of his attacks as he chased me and stopped throwing them, but that meant he switched to an attack that _would_ be effective.

I hated to think it, but if I could get somewhere with a lot of people then it might cause him to hesitate. Using civilians as shields was horrible, but I was desperate.

If that was actually my plan I would head to Lord street, but I hadn't the slightest clue where I was.

As predicted Eidolon's newest form of attack was some sort of scatter-shot. Like being shot at with a shotgun. There was no way to dodge it, but the attack was weak the first time it hit me. No so much a shotgun, but more like a handful of pebbles being tossed at me.

It wouldn't even slow me down. I can't imagine why he chose something that useless.

I continued running and Eidolon flew to keep up with me. I was faster on the ground than him—something he could easily fix if he did another power swap—but instead he pursued me in the air. So I ran into the parking garage.

Heading underground would bring him to the ground and also negate Dragon's airship. It hadn't pursued me, but whether it had found better things to do or was planning to ambush me remained to be seen.

I ran into the garage but stopped after a few paces. There was one of those little guardhouses and I could see the unconscious form of a person inside. Paralyzed, technically. The damage I did to this city today was irredeemable. _Fuck._

I opened the guardhouse door and looked for the guard's keys. "Sorry about this," I said. "I'm going to borrow your car, if you have one. The paralytic will wear off in a few hours." I pulled out the woman's keys from her pocket. "Thanks."

I ran down the halls of the huge lot pressing the alarm button until it started ringing. It would alert Eidolon to my location, but he already knew I was down here. I didn't have time to run around finding the right car.

The alarm starting blaring as I got near the back and I shut it off as quickly as I could and unlocked the doors _._

On Newter's advice I had been behind the wheel a few times but not enough to have any real skill. But driving was intuitive. You push the button on the stick and move it into reverse, then push down the pedal. The only thing that surprised me the first time was that the car would move as soon as I put it in gear, even if I didn't press down on the gas.

The rear window shattered as I put the car into drive and drove towards the exit. Eidolon had fired his grapeshot at the car with a lot more force behind it.

I sideswiped one of the parked cars but managed to get the sedan up and back onto the streets, making a right turn and going as fast as I could. Keeping the car straight was nerve-wracking but it's not like a crash could hurt me any worse than I've already been hurt.

With that thought in mind, I pushed my abilities of driving a little bit further as the car reached ninety.

Eidolon flew after me but finally had trouble keeping up. I couldn't help but smile. _Now_ his lasers would be effective. Too bad he swapped them out.

It didn't take long flying down empty streets to figure out where I was and where I needed to go. Though I wasn't sure how to navigate there by road. I looked in the rear-view mirror but couldn't see Eidolon or Dragon.

A Range Rover pulled into the street in front of me and I slammed my foot on the brakes. The car skidded and barely avoided colliding with the Range Rover. It came to a stop on the other side of the intersection. I spun around and looked at the other vehicle, also stopped in the road. If someone was driving then it was either my people or the PRT.

The car was familiar. Faultline got out of the driver seat, but instead of her usual welder's mask she was wearing a World War II gas mask.

"Come on," she said. The back door opened and Spitfire got out holding an assault rifle. She spun around watching the sky.

A moment later I found out why as the airship flew over the rooftops. Spitfire opened fire and I dashed into the rear of the Range Rover. As soon as I entered Spitfire and Faultline followed behind me and Shamrock, the driver, took off. We were going thirty before the doors closed and the airship tore up the streets.

It didn't slow Shamrock down any.

"The PRT's doing more fucking damage than I am," I shouted over the sound of gunfire. Spitfire swung out the door and returned fire, but I doubted the rifle did any damage to the tinker-tech airship.

"They're pretty out of it," Faultline shouted back. "Your thralls already downed twenty heroes. Sorry but it's too late to call it off."

"Fuck me."

Shamrock made a turn at way too high a speed and all of us slammed into the right side. The car should have flipped, but somehow it kept its wheels on the ground.

"Emma's coordinating," Faultline said and tossed a radio back to me. "Honestly I wouldn't get in her way."

"Emma," I said into the radio.

" _Master! I'm so glad you're alright."_

A hail of gunfire pelted the roof of the rover. None of them penetrated. Faultline must have armored this thing better than I expected. Shamrock didn't flinch as she turned down a street and drove through an underpass.

"That remains to be seen," I responded. "Tell me what the hell is happening."

" _Twenty-two of us have fed already. The other twelve are trying to fend off some of the fliers who are getting in the way."_

What I should have said was for Emma to tell the rest to stop trying. To regroup and not make things worse than they already were. That would have been the right thing to do.

But I had no idea what to do next. I had no idea what would be safest, what would actually work, nor what would keep me alive. _What would keep Faultline and all of us in this car alive?_ All I could think was that if I managed to live through this day I would need all the help I could get.

In twelve hours the bitten heroes would arise on my side. When that happened I would be safely surrounded by a parahuman army.

Twelve hours.

So I told Emma nothing. I told her nothing at all.

"Keep me updated," I said, dropping my arms to my sides.

I let Shamrock drive the car, Faultline direct, Spitfire fire uselessly on Dragon as I sat there trying to think of what the hell to do.

Twelve hours.

"Twelve hours," I said.

That's all I had to do. It was simple. "Survive the next twelve hours. That's what we have to do."

"I'm concerned with the next twelve minutes," Shamrock said making another hairpin turn. We were thrown to the left this time, Spitfire slamming against me. Her rifle jammed me in the rib but I didn't say anything. One more bruise wouldn't matter.

As if Shamrock jinxed it, a tire blew and the car skidded out of control. She brought it back and managed to keep it steady, but sparks flew off our rear tire.

Instead of leaving us exposed she opted to crash the car into a laundromat. Dragon wasn't the only one destroying our little city. The car smashed through the doorway and crumbled the wall on either side but didn't get far into the building. We were still exposed as we poured out of the car into the store.

It was hard navigating through the rubble caused by the car, but not impossible. It gave me a few more scratches but I had so many of those by now it wasn't worth thinking about. Unlike me, however, the rest of Faultline's crew didn't have the luxury of self-healing.

"Get inside. Hurry," Faultline shouted as the airship circled the store. We were all inside before it could fire on us and for the moment it seemed like we were safe.

Safe, but trapped. The laundromat was isolated. Not adjacent to any other buildings, completely alone with nothing but empty lots on all sides around it. There was no other cover to be had and nowhere to go. Dragon circled above us, keeping us inside.

The electricity didn't work either, so it was dark.

"The ship isn't using armor-piercing rounds," Faultline said. "So we're safe in here until actual heroes barge in."

"Couldn't it switch ammunition to something that could get us in here?" Spitfire asked.

"It would have done it by now. I hope."

If there were armor piercing rounds that killed us all in the next twenty seconds, there wasn't anything I could do about it. So I accepted Faultline's guess and worked from there. From inside this building there was little we could do except hold out. However, hope was far from lost.

I had people.

"Emma," I said into the radio. "We're trapped in a laundromat. Dragon is harassing us, what's going on on your end?"

By the background noise I could tell Emma was in a car. _"Twenty-three of the heroes have been bitten and moved to safe houses. The others are stillbeing attacked by some of the flying heroes, but they should get backup soon. Do you want me to—"_

"Eidolon," Spitfire said. She knelt behind one of the washing machines and propped her rifle up on it. Shamrock took a similar position.

"— _rescue you? Please say yes."_

"Yes, but don't bring anyone more than you have to. I want the other heroes distracted," I said eying Eidolon as he landed in the laundromat's parking lot. I hooked the radio back onto my belt. "Last I knew he had some bubble power keeping the paralytic out, some grapeshot power and flight," I told the others.

Spitfire's ability was worthless when she wore an actual gas mask opposed to her usual fake one, but Faultline could still wreak some havoc. I don't know about Shamrock.

But she was the most calm. "Think he can resist bullets?" Shamrock asked.

Faultline answered before I could. "Let's find out," she said.

A few tense seconds went by before Shamrock lowered her rifle. "Stop," she said. "It's a trap, don't fire. They'll bounce off."

"Then fire a warning shot," I said. Whenever Shamrock said something it was wise to listen. Her precognition was never wrong. The only thing to watch out for was when she lied about it.

Eidolon walked towards us until he got close to the smashed-in entrance. We could easily see him, though the shadows of the dark building hid our own locations.

"Just do it," I said. "Trust me."

"You heard her," Faultline affirmed. "Shamrock, a single shot next to his head. See if you can make him feel the wind pass by his face."

Almost immediately Shamrock fired a single shot out of her rifle. Eidolon stopped in his tracks.

"That's far enough," I shouted.

Faultline whispered in my ear. "I see where you're going with this, but have you thought it through? Just because he thinks we don't know that he has the advantage doesn't mean _we_ actually have the advantage."

I didn't bother trying to parse Faultline's sentence. All I needed to do was buy time. Twelve hours, one minute at a time.

Eidolon crossed his arms. "Wingspan, you need to give up. This has gone way too far. Twenty-three heroes have already been killed and you yourself said we can't afford this. It's not too late to stop."

 _They're not killed. They're enthralled._ There were fifty-something heroes paralyzed in the streets of Brockton Bay along with thousands of civilians. Twenty-three had been bitten, their bracelets removed and moved to a secret location by those of mine who have already been enthralled. But I only had thirty-four thralls. There were only potentially twelve more left.

When they wake up from being bitten I'll have more parahumans than the heroes, even if I tell the others to stop. I didn't want them to continue in the first place.

But now I needed the distraction. If they stopped then those seven other flying heroes would come here to this lonely little laundromat. And if that happened there was no chance of escape.

"My original offer still stands, even though you assholes shot at me." I shouted back. I had to say _something._

"Rejected. My counter-offer is you put a stop to this and maybe we'll rescind the kill order."

It was about damn time they put that on me. Not that I had wanted it, but it would have made sense to do that weeks ago. Like when I had Madison plant that bomb in the PRT building, or even before that when I bit Kid Win.

It still proved to be a problem. "That kill order, does that extend to the rest of Faultline's crew?" I asked. "Because there's quite a lot of us in here."

"Gee, thanks Taylor." Spitfire said. "I always wanted to be a human shield."

"And you say you're not a villain," Eidolon shouted. "Those are some screwed up morals you have."

That one hurt a little. Spitfire's comment was sarcastic but Eidolon's was biting. By this point my morals _were_ screwed up. Maybe I was going way too far with all of this. Maybe I should give up and go to the Birdcage.

But I really, really, really didn't want to.

Probably not the best reason but it was motivating. "I don't think two stubborn idiots like us should be negotiating," I yelled back. "Maybe it really is best we fight it out."

I could not win against Eidolon. I didn't have any of Bakuda's little tricks up my sleeve either, so Eidolon wouldn't fall the way Alexandria had.

 _I could try biting him._ _I_ hadn't eaten any heroes yet and it would solve our problem. The other fliers were no big deal. It was only Eidolon that stood between me and total victory. Unless some other powerful capes came into the picture but I wasn't sure they would.

Maybe Legend.

In twelve hours I would be safe. I said that but it's not true. In three and a half hours the paralytic will wear off, the heroes who haven't been bitten will rise and outside heroes could enter the city again.

 _No. The toxic gas will probably dissipate within the hour._ New heroes could enter in thirty minutes, downed heroes would rise three hours after that, and only eight hours later would my force double in size.

I didn't have the luxury of buying time for twelve hours. It had to be decided earlier than that. This had to be decided sooner than twelve hours from now. Sooner than four.

In the next thirty minutes.

Before anyone else could come into the city, while the gates were still locked and my people had free reign over every street and every block, I had to end this.

It didn't matter how much damage I've caused. The PRT won't back down from a challenge. They'll double down, which gave me thirty minutes.

That's it. That's all I had.

"Shamrock, can you fire these guns without holding onto them?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Then everyone take cover and fire at Eidolon. We're not going to wait around, we're going on the offensive. They'll bounce off but it should at least distract him."

"Distract him from wha—"

I took Faultline's arm and ran deeper into the store. I put my hand on one of the walls. "As soon as they start firing, knock down this wall." I said.

"Are you sure about this, Taylor?"

"Yes."

A few seconds later the roar of gunfire erupted followed by the whiz of ricochets. At my command the wall cracked and exploded in front of me and I barged out of it and dashed along the side of the building.

I rounded the corner and ran at Eidolon, bullets still bouncing off his skin. He saw me in the corner of his eye, but I was fast. By the time he spun towards me and held out his hand we were a meter apart.

There was an explosion. Hundreds of bullets exploded out from his hand into me, ripping through my skin. I screamed as they tore me to shreds, slicing through my skin and tearing holes through my entire chest.

But the pain stopped. I was hurt worse than I'd ever been before, but there was no pain. I could feel the impact of the bullets and my vision wavered as one went through my right eye, but it didn't hurt. It was an afterthought.

 _Oh, bullets are ripping through me._

I was moving forwards. His bullets tore right through me without stopping, which meant they kept their momentum and I kept mine. I kept moving forwards and crashed into Eidolon.

It was impossible to control what I was doing. My body wouldn't respond to my commands. But I was so close to him as we fell to the ground. His body smashed against my face.

All I could do was open my jaw and pray that something entered it. A fang found his leg and latched on. My jaw followed and I bit down with what little force left I could muster out of my dying body. A solid bite, the last one I could make.

I heard him grunt as I sucked up what blood I could from his leg.

But Eidolon didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. He kicked me away with his other leg and I went rolling away, my body still somehow all attached in one piece. Barely.

I'd bit him though. I'd bit him. It probably wasn't enough but I bit him.

Eidolon brought his hand to his leg and fired his grapeshot on himself. I stared. He tore his own leg off. He fired multiple times and screamed as he did it, but he ripped his thigh to shreds and tore his own leg off because I'd bitten it.

 _He'll go to such lengths to prevent himself from being mastered?_ It wasn't a sure thing. His immune system could probably fight off what little of my infection I could get inside him. But he didn't take the risk and mutilated himself.

He must have switched his power to self-healing after that.

Faultline made this realization as well because the three of them emerged slightly from the laundromat, still using it as cover from the airship, but brandishing themselves more openly than before. All three trained rifles on Eidolon.

I couldn't move my body to help them.

They didn't fire. "Taylor, are you okay?" Spitfire asked. There was a quiver in her voice. I wasn't able to answer. I coughed when I tried.

Instead I looked over at Eidolon. The airship had lowered itself close enough to do whatever it wanted, but the situation felt like a draw.

Eidolon could have finished me off but the trauma of tearing his own leg off knocked him out. I could see it trying to repair itself

My body, too, was slowly fixing its holes.

"Let me take him," Dragon's voice boomed over the laundromat.

I wasn't in a position to negotiate. I imagine Dragon had some way of winching Eidolon into the ship, but if Faultline and the others fired on them while doing it it might not work.

A standstill.

"It's not over," Faultline shouted and pointed her rifle at Eidolon. "Taylor is alive over there and Emma will run things until she's back on her feet. The snake's head isn't cut off."

"Neither is ours," Dragon said. "But please let me save him. His self-healing won't be fast enough unless I help him. I have the equipment on board."

"The terms Taylor dictated," Faultline shouted. "Abide by them."

"It's not my call. It's—" There was a pause. "There's no current operational authority on site."

That wasn't something Dragon should have told us. Though presumably it was Eidolon, who was now down and out. _Jesus Faultline, just let Dragon have him back. I don't want him to die._

I hardly scratched him. Eidolon shouldn't have gone so overboard. He basically committed suicide.

"This is not a deal between Wingspan and the PRT," Faultline shouted. "This is a deal between me, Faultline, and you, Dragon. Issue a retreat order to everyone, and I mean _everyone_ over _every_ channel you have access to, and we'll let you rescue Eidolon."

"I have no such authority."

"I'm not saying you do," Faultline said. "I just want you to say it."

The pause lasted forever. The situation was tense. Dragon could fire with the airship and kill all of us. But Eidolon would die because Faultline would make sure with her dying breath to shred him with her rifle.

Or she would at least try. _Would Dragon take that risk?_

"Agreed," Dragon said.

I could hear it over my radio and everyone else's. _"Attention, all units from all agencies are to retreat. Evacuate Brockton Bay immediately."_

Faultline nodded. "Good. Repeat it every thirty seconds and we won't interfere as you pick up Eidolon."

I heard the airship lower itself meters above the parking lot. I could see exactly where its guns and sensors were. A loading carriage lowered from the underside of the airship down onto the ground.

"Help," Dragon said.

Faultline gestured with her rifle and Spitfire dashed to help Eidolon onto the platform. She looked at me the entire time she was doing it.

I smiled at her. Pretty sure I'm not dying.

Spitfire finished loading Eidolon onto Dragon's platform, the retreat message replaying exactly as Faultline demanded. The platform raised and the airship flew up into the air and left.

Only after it had left my line of sight did Emma drive up in a pickup screaming incoherently about how hurt I was. She was on the verge of tears.

At least she came running when I told her to. Even if she was late.


	25. Red Sky 3-2

**Red Sky 3.2**

"It only bought time," Faultline said. We were still at the laundromat. They debated on whether or not to load my damaged body into the bed of the pickup and drive off. Emma was frantic, but even though I looked like I was knocking on death's door Faultline and Shamrock kept their cool.

Emily held my hand but I couldn't feel her warmth.

"Dragon was right. She didn't have authority to issue the retreat. The PRT will scramble around a little bit and come back within the hour. By that time we'll be overrun. _"_

"Everyone's getting to feed though," Emma said. She knelt down next to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner, master."

I coughed. It was the most I could muster while my vocal chords and throat repaired itself.

If the retreat was obeyed the downed heroes would be left behind. All my thralls will be able to find a victim to bite. I wasn't in a position to rescind the order.

Shamrock looked around. "How long will it take you to heal?"

 _Does she not realize I can't fucking speak?_

"I-I don't know," Emma said softly. "Puncture wounds usually heal in fifteen minutes, but there's so many... and her wing is all messed up. Those take days to heal. I don't know."

"Tch," I coughed. "Track." I managed to spit out.

"What? What is it, master?"

"Tru—," I could barely spit. "—uck."

"Truck?" Emma turned around and looked at the pickup truck. "Do you want us to put you in the truck?"

I nodded. I wanted to get somewhere else as soon as possible, preferably somewhere hidden I could recover. Emma was right. There was no telling how long it would take for me to be able to walk.

No matter what the plan was or what we were going to do for the next hour, I couldn't count on participating. I had to be stashed away somewhere. That much I knew, but I couldn't give much more direction than that.

Emma picked up on what I wanted and had the others help me into the bed of the pickup. Shamrock drove with Faultline in the front. Both Emily and Emma rode in the bed with me, totting automatic rifles.

I layed against the cab and watched the streets go by as the truck sped up. The wreckage of the laundromat was soon out of sight.

 _Time's running out._ There was no secondary plan or backup. We used every resource we could find to make so many paralytic bombs. There was nothing left to do except take this advantage and win with it. The game board was set and everyone made all their best moves.

Kings and Queens have been taken down. Dead pawns littered the streets. Only a few pieces remained. I had to win with those.

"Dragon's command is mostly being obeyed, I think." Emma said. "The only person who doesn't seem willing to retreat is Glory Girl. I'll send everyone over to her."

I couldn't respond but there wasn't much to say. One hero was nothing to worry about.

We bought an hour. If I'm lucky I'll be able to at least walk in that amount of time. As for Eidolon it's impossible to say. He could be back in full form within the hour.

" _Someone put Taylor on,"_ came Madison's voice from Emma's radio.

"She can't talk," Emma said.

" _Then tell her to listen. It's great and all we got the heroes to run away but there's another concern. You said earlier that you can't master everybody. That leaves plenty of unconscious heroes and villains around who will rise in four hours seeking revenge. Also there's a time-stop bubble at the beach where a handful of villains and heroes will come back."_

"Right, but that's not for a few hours." Emma said.

" _I_ _t's a problem that's easily solvable now. We need to spend the next few hours taking those people prisoner. This retreat may only be temporary but there won't be a large response from the heroes. Their morale is too low."_

I would have objected but Emma nodded and trusted Madison completely. _Fuck._ I can't let Madison take over, but I was completely helpless right now. The one thing I needed to do was issue orders. I trusted Emma, but Emma trusted Madison.

That wasn't something I could allow.

" _The most likely response is a PRT one. Non-cape agents with foam guns and all that stuff. Those guys are a dime a dozen so they won't have a problem losing them. And they'll still cause us problems, especially if Calvert is leading them."_

Too cynical, Madison. Too cynical.

"Master," Emma said. "Is this plan all right?"

It _was_ good. That was the worst thing about Madison, and something I only realized recently.

Madison was a genius.

A sadistic, horrible genius, but a genius all the same. Her analysis was accurate and her plan would work. So I forced my body to grunt and nod and let Emma know to go ahead with it. I couldn't trust her, not even for a second. But I had to hope her goals aligned with mine.

Shamrock made a hard left turn and I slid into the side of the bed, Emma and Emily holding on to the side railing. Emma dropped her gun and it slid into my lap, but I couldn't use it.

"Company," Shamrock shouted as a PRT van shot past. There was a bull bar on its front and I guessed it tried to ram us. Its brakes squealed as it skidded to a stop and spun around to pursue us. We'd got a good lead on it but our vehicle was nothing but an old pickup nobody else wanted.

The PRT van had the advantage and quickly gained. Emily brought up her rifle and took cover behind the pickup's tail gate. She didn't fire immediately and Emma grabbed her gun and took a position alongside her.

"How are they conscious?" Emma asked.

She hadn't needed a gas mask like me, but Emily and the rest of Faultline's crew wore them to keep out the paralytic.

"If I had to guess," Emily said, "they're wearing masks too."

I'm surprised they _all_ weren't to be honest. The local PRT should have been more prepared for me than they were. It's not like the paralytic was new. I've been using it for at least a month. Bakuda had even taken countermeasures for it, which now went unused.

Someone leaned out the window of the van and shot at us. The bullets ricocheted off the cab and the back of the truck as Emma and Emily ducked down. Emma also pulled me down but I was on my back already. I wasn't much of a target.

Emily returned fire when the bullets stopped but as far as I could tell nothing was progressing. Shamrock made a sharp turn to try to pull away from them, then another and another but the van kept pursuing.

The fact bullets were being exchanged made it pretty clear the situation was far beyond a typical parahuman conflict. Though that should have been apparent hours ago. I'd gone farther than villains are supposed to.

"Dammit," Emily cursed. "It's armored or something. I'm only wasting bullets."

"I have a magazine left," Emma said. "Probably not enough to stop these guys."

Emily rooted around in her bag and pulled out a grenade. "I have this," she said. "But it's really likely I'll miss."

I didn't recognize it as one of Bakuda's so it was probably a normal grenade. Emily held onto it and tried to wait for the opportune moment. Instead Shamrock made another wild turn and the truck's back tires started sliding. It wasn't a good drift. We lost a lot of speed and suddenly revealed the side of our car to the enemy.

They proceeded to shower it with bullets. The glass in the truck shattered as bullets smashed through it. I could hear tires squeal and white smoke rise as Shamrock hit the accelerator.

"I have an idea," Faultline shouted and opened the passenger-side door. "Spitfire and Emma, cover me. Shamrock, hug the right and then slightly swerve to the left. I want you to make a curve, do you get it?"

"Yes," she said and pulled the truck to the right. We almost rode up on the sidewalk.

On that cue, Emma and Emily took turns firing on the van. It was twenty meters behind us and closing fast. At the barrage it slowed but still kept pace.

Our truck then drifted to the left, Shamrock making a quick swerve and then a long arc to the right. I wasn't sure what was happening until halfway through the turn when we were in the middle of the road. Behind us a huge crack split open the pavement. Since Shamrock drove across the entire width of the road, that crack completely blocked the way.

The van's speed was too fast to stop in time. As soon as its front wheel lurched down into the maw Faultline opened the van's momentum turned it upside-down. The van skidded on its roof behind us, coming to a stop just as Shamrock made another right turn.

"You didn't tell me you could do that," Shamrock shouted. We were going over sixty and the wind forced them to speak loudly.

"I was only half sure it would work," she said.

Not only had Shamrock managed to evade the PRT, but she brought us to our destination. An abandoned apartment complex. There was a covered parking lot that obscured the vehicles inside, so it was a good place to stash the car. Shamrock pulled the truck horizontally across three parking spaces and turned it off.

We all took a few deep breaths.

I coughed. "G-Good work." It was hard to talk.

"Thank you," Emma said smiling. "Let's get you inside."

The apartments had been abandoned after Leviathan due to extreme water damage. It was one of many places that didn't recover and as such it didn't have electricity nor running water. The latter is why I and the other thralls liked it.

Emma and Emily laid me on a bed in one of the empty rooms while Faultline and Shamrock kept watch.

"Safe for the time being," Emily said. Despite that she didn't let go of her rifle.

I felt helpless. There was somewhere I could be and something I could do if my body hadn't been grated like cheese by Eidolon. Instead I was bedridden.

My self-healing had trouble knowing how to deal with such a severe amount of damage. The only thing it did right was stop me from feeling the pain. If I was in as much pain as I should be right now then I would be _worse_ than useless. I would be a hindrance.

So at least I could bear it. And as long as it got repaired I could fight again. _Just hurry up you stupid body._

Emily scooted closer. "I suppose it's only natural that the worst-case scenario's come to pass," she said. "I remember what it was you said when we were planning all this. 'If we really set off the gas, all bets are off.' And then Shamrock made some inane comment I don't remember."

I remembered it. She said she'd bet me her entire net worth it'd come to that. "That's my life," I said. The words were soft, but I could speak them. It would be false to say none of this was supposed to happen. But I played all my best cards when I would have preferred to save them. Shamrock probably hated me for that.

Emily laughed. "Maybe if we win today you'll finally catch a break."

"That would be nice," I said. But I doubted it would happen. If we won today someone would fight tomorrow. And the day after. That's how it is. No one ever stops. They keep fighting and fighting and fighting until they die.

"Shit," Emma cursed. She put her radio in her lap. "The PRT engaged Skiddy and some of his minions. Skiddy got foamed and the rest had to run away."

She turned to stare at me. "So get him back," I said. She didn't need me to tell her that, but she looked at me for direction.

"No, I mean, your leg..."

I looked at my left leg. It was the most damaged of all my limbs, only attached by some bone and a few muscle strands. When I usually healed the wound got smaller and smaller until it was gone completely. However, my leg was turning black.

My chest tightened and I gripped the sheets of the bed. "What's happening?" I asked. Not that anyone would know.

The black color grew until it covered my entire leg. But before the color crept up even further to my waist, the blackened leg fell apart. What used to be my leg turned to a black mush and puddled on the bed. All I could do was stare.

 _This is it._ I'd pushed myself too far. My body couldn't keep up and now I am going to die. This was me dying. What was I thinking fighting Eidolon head on like that? _I deserve this for being so stupid._

Bonesaw had said something along the lines of how my body protected me. But I shouldn't have counted on it to keep me protected no matter what. I had to meet it halfway and not do stupid things that could kill me.

I failed on that front and now I was dying. What else could it mean?

"Master, I'm very confused." Emma said. "That puddle, is it clumping up or something?"

The black puddle was indeed clumping up. But not into the shape of a leg. Instead it was clumping into little balls. At first I thought it was a trick of how liquid body parts would behave, but soon the entire puddle was twenty or thirty golfball-sized black orbs.

Something very strange was happening.

" _A tank was just destroyed on the freeway between Fairview and Market,"_ came a voice from Emma's radio. _"By the PRT. Freeway's unusable."_

I would have given that more thought if I wasn't focused on the bizarre nonsense that was happening to my leg. The balls were wobbling back and fourth now. Two rolled towards each other, melded together and then came apart again.

"Who'd we lose?" Emma asked into the radio, still completely focused on my leg.

" _Bakuda's timestopped."_

That was bad. Bakuda was our strongest asset. And now she was out of commission for half a day. Not to mention losing the tank. I may have to rethink the self-destruct time stops. While it did its job and made the PRT think twice about destroying them, if they'd decided the cost was worth it then there was no point.

Later. If I survive the next five minutes maybe I can think about that. The black balls that used to be my leg were still wobbling as if they were unsure about what to do next. A few more rolled around and smashed into each other, but they always broke up after.

Faultline burst into the room. "PRT's here," she said. "I don't know if we were followed or what, but they know we're in this apartment. Five vans parked outside. And two firetrucks."

I almost laughed at the firetrucks. Somebody over at the PRT knew my weakness. "I can't do anything," I said. "Can you hold them off?"

"Not for long. We had some ammo stored here but not a lot. Also it's the wrong type of bullet for the rifles so we're pistols only." Faultline shrugged. "I could cause some damage but it wouldn't stop them. Spitfire could help but she'd have to take off her mask and I don't know if it's sa—"

There was a smash from somewhere in the building. It was followed up by a loud hiss.

"Tear gas," Spitfire shouted. There was the pop of gunfire as the PRT engaged us.

I'm not sure what purpose the tear gas served. They should have seen the gas masks earlier, so all it did was cut visibility.

Faultline rushed out of my room to cause some havoc. The gunfire was accompanied by large cracks of concrete and earth being shattered under her feet.

Then the sound stopped. Emma held onto her radio with both hands and backed away from the door while I held my grip on my bed. The white tear gas leaked into the room but Emma and I were immune to it.

"Gun?" I asked.

Emma shook her head. "I gave it to Shamrock."

The person who came through the door to the apartment wasn't Shamrock returning the gun she borrowed. Nor was it Emily, Faultline or anyone else from the crew. It was a faceless soldier of the PRT in full garb.

They pointed their foam rifles at Emma and me and didn't hesitate to coat us with it. Emma tried to get in the way and protect me, but once she was taken down there wasn't much I could do except fall to the floor and try to crawl away. A pathetic act that quickly got me coated in foam.

"Wingspan, you are under arrest."

I didn't respond. I wouldn't have been able to break free of this foam even at my full strength, let alone right now while barely clinging onto life. There was nothing to do except resign myself to this fate of being foamed.

There was nothing else to do.

Minutes ticked by. The foam blocked my vision and I couldn't see what was happening, but I'm sure the PRT agents were guarding Emma and I. If Emma and I were down, Bakuda was time-stopped... who did that leave running the show? Squealer?

Ugh.

My body trembled. Being trapped in this foam was bad and I didn't even get to see what was up with those black balls. They've probably been thrown all over the place by now. I may as well write off my leg as gone.

I felt the foam being dissolved off my body until my hands were free. But before I could do anything with them they were shoved into a handcuff mechanism designed for brutes. I couldn't break out of it. They were going to do something with my legs too but upon realizing I only had _one_ opted to leave it be. They also clipped something onto what remained of my wings.

More restraints were added around my waist and neck that I didn't understand the purpose of, but it would probably kill me if I tried to do anything. They finished off with a gag in my mouth.

Emma wasn't bound as severely as me, though she had many of the same capabilities. They probably only had one set of the major restraints. Emma didn't look able to break free though.

We were captured.

The foam dissolved and I could see those black balls lying over the floor, some smashed into puddles and others still wobbling. Useless. Whatever they were they were completely useless.

The PRT agents grabbed Emma. She was helpless to resist and carried out before the agents came back for me. Two agents grabbed me from either side and carried me away.

We were outside the door when it happened.

All those little black balls on the floor of the apartment sprouted wings. They sprouted wings, took to the air and swarmed around the room. The PRT agents dropped me from shock and went to draw their guns, but the swarm already rushed towards them.

No, not towards _them,_ towards _me._ They flew towards where my leg used to be and smashed into the stump. In a second my leg was back and in perfect health. The PRT agents retreated and brought their foam guns back around to contain me, but I had a whole good leg.

I was still in the doorway, so I hooked my good leg around the door and used it to pull myself into the room. It bought me all of a second as the PRT agents repositioned themselves to shoot foam into the apartment. But in that second blackness extended all over my body. It spread from my good leg over my skin. It felt like I was being ripped apart.

The blackness burned my entire body.

The PRT agents fired their foam rifles at me again, the stream of liquid turning into foam as it came into contact with the air. That was the thing about those rifles. They were meant to be long range. A few meters had to be between them and me for the liquid to actually turn to foam.

Instead of the foam hitting me, I exploded.

Or at least that's what it felt like. My entire vision went dark. I could still feel myself, but I was out of control. My body was in a hundred places at once and none of them useful. I had no vision, no sense of hearing, no taste or smell. I could feel my body impacting things, but I didn't know what those things were.

I wanted the pain to stop. I really wanted it to stop.

The fucking PRT kept doing this. The heroes, the PRT, the villains, _everybody_. Everybody seemed wholly intent on causing me as much pain as possible. Even back at school Emma and the trio wanted to cause me pain.

I tried to pull it together. I didn't have control over anything. I wasn't even sure where my brain was or what allowed me to _think._ I was in pieces.

Together. I had to come together. Together.

Together.

It didn't feel like I had control, but the swarm got smaller. Closer together. The chaos more uniform and singular. I was in pieces, but the pieces moved as one. A single entity.

Vision was restored. I was outside in the hallway, PRT agents flanking me on either side. Before looking at them I took a deep breath and stared at my own body. I was complete again, exactly how I was an hour ago before Eidolon ripped me to shreds.

I didn't understand what happened but there was no time. A PRT agent stepped back and leveled his foam rifle at me. I could hear it hiss so I rushed forward. I darted right next to him and shoved him into the wall.

The rifle dropped from his hand as he smashed through the wall. I wasn't sure if the cracks were from the building being destroyed or from his bones, but there was another agent. I spun on my heel and dashed towards him next. His rifle didn't even raise before I punched him in his gas mask.

The mask buckled and crushed his face, which also buckled and was crushed into his skull. The PRT helmet flew off as the agent fell to the ground, blood pooling around.

I dashed down the hallway to try to find Faultline and the others. I hadn't meant to be so brutal but they weren't leaving me any choice. Those foam guns worked and would take me down if I let them hit me.

There were two PRT agents in the lobby of the apartment complex amidst piles of rubble and broken furniture. This was where the others made their stand. I could tell by the sea of spent bullets and weapons, plus the inordinate amount of bullet holes in all the walls.

The PRT agents weren't holding foam rifles. They were loitering as if waiting for something. They froze when they saw me, but I looked past them.

A body bag.

I tensed up. Was it one of theirs, or...?

One of the agents reached for his rifle and I closed the distance before he could get his hands around it. I smashed my shoulder into his chest and tore the rifle off his back. He was thrown across the room and out one of the already-broken windows.

The rifle wasn't a foam one, it was a real one. I spun it around at the remaining agent and pulled the trigger.

Click. _God damn it._

The delay let the other officer pull out a pistol and fire. The bullets pierced through my skin, but there wasn't any pain. I could feel the impacts but that was it.

I rushed towards him as he unloaded his clip into me and reached out to grab him. He dodged, but I managed to snag his arm. Without knowing what else to do, I swung him around and tossed him. He hit a desk and tumbled into the wall screaming.

I should have paid more attention to him but instead I knelt down by the body bag and unzipped it. I held my breath, praying it wasn't—

—Emily.

 _Not her,_ I thought. My hands shook. _Not her, anyone but her. She was the only one of us who was a good person._

Someone shouted outside. I forced myself to drag my eyes away from Emily's body. Out the window I could see several PRT vans parked outside, ten agents getting into there were two fire hoses aimed towards the apartment building.

 _I let Emily die._ I stared at her body. _She's right there, unmoving. Protecting me. It should be the other way around._

The rev of a car engine echoed as one of the vans pulled away, its tires screeching. It was larger than the others with a very secure back. The only reason it would be fleeing was if... was if there were prisoners in it.

I dashed outside and unfolded my wings, taking to the air. Two streams of foam and a shower of bullets came my way, but I was already in the air as they smashed harmlessly into the side of the apartment building. The firetrucks hadn't sprayed their water.

 _Emily is dead._

The van screeched away but I caught up to it as it rounded a turn. I landed on the hood. The driver hit the brakes to throw me off so I extended my wings and used the air resistance to keep me on.

I then propelled myself forward, punching through the windshield and grabbing the driver's throat. He had armor on but there was space between his helmet and body armor that I could slip my hand in.

He struggled to get away but once my hand was around his throat I squeezed until I heard his neck snap. All life left his body and he fell limp against the steering wheel, the horn blaring.

 _There's no time._

They won't retreat. I can't retreat either. Emily's body was in the building and the rest of my crew was in this van. _I can't retreat. I can't._

This time I can't just flee. I had run away from Eidolon and Dragon's machine. I tried to hide in the shadows and wait them out, but I couldn't do that anymore. Not here. Not now.

I swung around to the back of the van and ripped the doors off, making sure Faultline and the others really were inside. All three of them were: Faultline, Shamrock and Emma. Only Emma looked conscious but all three of them had restraints. So they weren't dead.

Gunfire spilled towards me and I could feel bullets pelt my back. I kicked the PRT van sideways to give my crew cover while I turned around. The bullets still did damage. I could see the holes. But the pain was gone.

It didn't hurt anymore.

The PRT had to leave, but the only way they would leave is if I made them. I ran towards them and roared. They fired the foam at me, but there were only two streams. At my full power, with working wings and my full speed, I could dodge them. Dash to the right, dash to the left, leap up and coast with my wings. Even when they tried to anticipate where I'd be next I could change direction quickly.

The foam gunners had to be taken out. I reached the first one and not knowing what else to do, grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. A strong urge pulsed through me to bite his neck, but I didn't have time for that.

The other foam gunner already turned his stream towards me, willing to hit his friend with it. So I grabbed the man's throat and took it with me as I dashed away from the foam. I'm not sure how much of the man's body came with me, but it wasn't all of it.

I let go of whatever was in my hand and turned towards the next agent. There was blood over my body, but I didn't feel it. I had to get them to leave.

I reached the agent before he could move and grabbed the gun out of his hands. I heard one of his arms snap as I wrenched it away and then smashed it into his face. The gun crumpled from the impact.

That's when the firetrucks finally started spraying water. As soon as it happened I dashed away, the crippling fear it brought worse than it had ever been before. I took cover behind the prison van, tripping over my own feet.

The streams stopped when I was out of sight, but I was still shaking. _Fuck_. My weakness was even worse now. I hadn't even gotten wet.

We had chosen this apartment complex because there wasn't any running water. Which meant the firetrucks weren't connected to a hydrant. All they had was the water in the actual trucks. I didn't know how much it was but there was no way it was all that much.

I grabbed a rifle from inside the prison van. _I'll do this the old fashioned way._

Once I could hold the rifle without shaking, I stood up and propped the rifle on top of the hood of the van. The agents near the firetrucks had to hold big hoses, which made them easy targets. After checking to make sure the rifle actually had bullets in it and the safety was off, I pressed the trigger as fast as I could.

I wasn't sure if I got any of the agents, but the hoses were torn and gushing water.

They wouldn't give up. The PRT agents didn't run away, they just drew their automatic rifles and pistols and whatever else they had and fired. The bullets ricocheted off the van.

"Stop fucking shooting at me," I yelled as I dashed out from the van and rushed towards them. I closed the distance in a second and killed an agent trying to aim a hose.

And then another one.

And another one.

And another one.

 _Why won't they just give up?_ _How come no one runs away?_ There was only two left. They couldn't do anything. I didn't understand why they died by my hand.

 _They'll never leave._

That was the only conclusion. No one is going to leave me alone. Even when they should and it's in their own best interests, they will still come after me.

"I don't get it," I said to myself. The only voice left among a sea of carnage. Bodies and half-destroyed vehicles littered the road. Blood filled the cracks in the asphalt.

I walked towards the apartment. Towards Emily.

I heard the sound of one of the agent's radios. _"_ _Come in unit two, status?"_

The message repeated, the man on the other end sounding anxious. I grabbed the radio and pushed down the button, but I wasn't sure what to say.

For a few seconds I stared at it.

"They're dead," I said softly. "I'm done. I'm just done."

I wasn't sure if I would get a response, but after a few seconds the man spoke back. _"Is that you, Wingspan? What do you mean?"_

I threw the radio aside. It didn't matter. Only Emily mattered right now. She was laying there, dead. She was still there in the apartment resting snugly in the body bag. I've heard the phrase on television that sometimes people look like they're sleeping when they're dead.

It wasn't true. Something was clearly wrong. Emily was too still.

I knelt down next to her.

"Would you do it to save someone..." I asked myself.

My thralls are mostly themselves. Sure there was a different purpose forced on them: unconditional love for someone they may not even have liked before and a potpourri of physical side-effects. But it was better than dying, wasn't it?

We'd never discussed this. I don't know if Emily would have wanted me to bite her. If the only other option was death? But I just spoke with her minutes ago. There should still be enough time. There _has_ to be.

Even if it's the wrong decision and she didn't want it I'd never know. I'd never know because from now on she would love me. So of course she would say it's what she wanted. It's impossible to know.

But she didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

I sunk my fangs into Emily's neck. To save someone, I would bite them. I lapped up her blood and drained her body. The infection would spread from me to her. This was the first time I'd bitten someone already dead. I didn't know if it would work.

But I had to try. When I was done I wiped my mouth and was attacked by guilt.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry."


	26. Red Sky 3-3

**Red Sky 3.3**

The worst was that there was no way of knowing if it worked. Emily had already died by the time I bit her, so I could have done nothing at all except desecrate her body. Or maybe I _did_ save her and she would wake up in half a day with the rest of the downed heroes.

But I wouldn't know for twelve hours.

I undid Emma's restraints. "Help me with the others," I told her as I turned to Faultline. Emma started undoing Shamrock's cuffs, but both of them were unconscious for some reason. We checked their pulses and they were alive.

"Master," Emma said. "Let me clean all that blood off of you. A-And, you can borrow my clothes."

"There isn't time," I said immediately. But I looked down and noticed I was completely naked and my skin was stained red. I hadn't felt that. As stupid as it sounded given the situation, my face went a little red. "Just find me some clothes in the apartment."

There wasn't enough time to rest and recover. I'd cut through an entire PRT unit and they would respond accordingly.

 _No._

Enough running away. I grabbed Faultline and Shamrock and hoisted them over my shoulders, carrying them back into the apartment complex. Instead of making base on the first floor I carried them up to the third floor and put them on a bed in one of the empty apartments.

Then I went back for Emily and brought her to the same room. I shut the door and bumped into Emma in the hallway.

"Sorry, I can't find any," she said. "But I—"

"Just keep those three safe and try to wake up Faultline and Shamrock," I said. "And give me your radio. How are things with everyone else?"

Before she answered we heard the distant sound of a helicopter.

Emma shrugged. "Most of them are in hiding. The PRT engaged a couple but we still haven't lost anyone except Skiddy. The PRT captured him."

I nodded and took her radio. Without another word I headed up to the roof of the building. The stairs were locked but that was no obstacle.

The apartment was only three stories so I couldn't see a vibrant cityscape. But it was the same height as everything in the general vicinity. I had a good eye on the sky and I could see the helicopter in the distance.

I gripped the radio in my hand. This had all gone way too far. I knew that.

I knew that, which is why it had to stop. The problem was both the PRT and I would escalate. They would do something to me and I would push back, only for them to push back harder, back and fourth over and over again. If I wanted to get ahead of this then I would have to do something like surrender.

Ha.

"This is Wingspan, can you guys hear me?" I said into the radio. It was tuned to the frequency my people were using. Emma had said most of them were in hiding and waiting everything out. I got a spattering of replies that eventually added up to everybody. Maybe everybody. It was hard to keep track.

Both sides would keep pushing. The smart thing to do was surrender, knowing that. Or at the very least stop pushing. It was the smart thing to do.

I pushed the button down on the two-way radio. It felt heavy, and I took a breath. "Don't run away, don't hide. If anyone fights you, kill them. Kill them all."

I dropped my hands to my side and watched the sky. There was that helicopter out in the distance. I couldn't see where it was going.

A longer time went by than I expected. Those who I enthralled had no trouble applying violence to solve their problems and it was only me who reigned them back. But the heroes wouldn't let up. They had a good chance of winning and it probably kept their morale up.

So that's what I had to shatter.

I should have realized that months ago.

A laser from halfway across the city arced across the sky and cut through the helicopter. It exploded in the air, its debris falling down into the city out of sight. Brockton Bay was truly in chaos, and I was perpetuating it.

"I'll fix you," I said. "I'm sorry Brockton Bay, but I'll fix you."

I kept my feet planted on the roof of the building. No more running away. I was going to hold my ground right here, for twelve hours. If the PRT wanted to kill me they could come right here looking for a fight.

No one came immediately. No one came for a long enough time that I felt silly standing on top of a building without wearing any clothes. I folded my wings in front of me to at least preserve my modesty. The blood started drying so I wiped some of it off.

It got all over my hands and made them slippery. I ran my tongue along them, licking up the blood off my fingers. It tasted good.

" _Taylor,"_ said Madison over the radio. _"That paralytic of yours has dissipated. We can probably expect a new wave of heroes. I assume you don't have another surprise like that up your sleeve."_

I picked the radio up off the ground. "No. Just don't hold back."

" _I can't do much in a wheelchair. Although..."_ There was a clank behind me. "I'm pretty good at moving quickly." Madison had appeared on the same roof as me. Her whole chair teleported with her. Not the original one, which had fallen to its death because of Alexandria, but a different one. Technically it was stolen. "There's abnormal cloud movements by the way. I think Dragon's ship is flying through your fog."

"So radio Kid Win where it is so he can shoot it," I said.

Madison did no such thing. In fact, she stared at me until I got chills. "Who died?"

"How—"

"You're lashing out," she said. "The violence down there and your command over the radio just now. You're angry. It's not very productive. You should stop."

I gritted my teeth. What right did she have to lecture me? Emily might be dead. A really nice person is dead because of the thing between the PRT and me. Of course I'm angry. This needs to stop.

"They'll take advantage of it. Calvert is on top of things. He'll know you're angry and he'll push that until you mess up and capture you. Again."

"If you're so smart than what's _your_ plan?"

In a typical fashion, Madison smiled. I hated that smile. That was the smile she had whenever she tortured me back at Winslow. "I didn't have one until I saw you on this roof a minute ago, and you're going to hate it. But it's going to work."

She reached into a pocket in her outfit and pulled out a phone. It was one of those large phones for heroes to use so it was nearly as big as her hand. She held it up to me so I could see the image. A picture of me standing on this roof, naked with my wings folded over my private bits.

It looked an awful lot like—

"You didn't even realize did you?" Madison asked. "Who you're emulating right now."

I was going to respond but she kept talking.

"I posted it on PHO under my verified cape name the PRT issued me. Without any context, of course. I know the last thing you want is to be compared to an Endbringer but people have already been doing it. If we can implant memories of the Simurgh specifically, we can get people into the same thought-space. They'll deal with _us_ as they deal with _her_."

Quarantine.

Simurgh protocol was to quarantine areas she's hit, completely blocking them off from the outside world. No official Protectorate or PRT presence. Only already-present heroes and villains who aren't allowed out. That's what we need. A quarantine on Brockton Bay.

It will keep the PRT out. It's how they leave me alone. _How did Madison think of this when I couldn't?_

"Will it actually work?"

"The image will be the right spark. But we've got to follow it up with something. Another event of hopelessness. The spread of information is going to be really fast right now so we need to confirm our narrative within the hour."

Confirm the narrative. But there's no more tricks up my sleeve. I have no more trump cards to play or secret weapons to unveil. I've played my hand and performed my master stroke. All that's left now is the remnants of my forces, the best ones incapacitated, and my own strength.

"Defeat Legend," Madison said.

A breeze picked up. It carried the smell of fish from the bay area. I focused on it because I didn't want to think about what Madison said.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes I fucking heard you. I can't defeat Legend."

Madison wheeled her chair next to me. There was a small ledge that prevented her from rolling over the edge of the building, but she looked to be in enough control not to have been worried. "It's perfect though. Alexandria, Eidolon and Legend. The Triumvariate, all three defeated by the villain Wingspan. It's exactly what has to happen."

"I had little to do with Alexandria and Eidolon only lost because he was afraid of being mastered and inflicted that wound on himself."

"Who cares. If you defeat Legend people will assume you bested Eidolon properly. And you can take full credit for Alexandria even though it was me."

"It was Bakuda's bombs, not you."

"I helped."

I perked my ears up at a sound in the distance. There wasn't anything to see but something was coming. The city was safe to enter and the heroes would try again. It felt like suicide standing here out in the open awaiting their arrival. But I wasn't going to run away.

Madison didn't notice anything, but she stared at me. "They're coming, right?" She asked. "Better think of a way to beat Legend soon, because we'll be fighting him."

She wasn't wrong. Legend was flying artillery: fast, strong, and deadly accurate. Any simple application of force against him wouldn't work and unless I could obliterate him instantly there wasn't anything my power afforded me to beat him.

The same went for Alexandria and Eidolon, both of whom were taken out. If I were to think of how I made that happen, Alexandria was caught in a trap that didn't actually harm her and Eidolon was convinced to mutilate himself for fear of being mastered.

For reasons unknown Eidolon picked the array of powers he did and somehow that worked out in my favor. But Legend was long range. I wouldn't get a bite on him. He's faster than me and could shred me with any number of his lasers before I even got close.

There were no more tricks of Bakuda's left to exploit.

Squealer would be no help and Skidmark was captured.

Madison... I don't know what she could do any better than me. I glanced at her to see her fingers tighten around the hilt of a dagger. _Wouldn't a gun be more effective for her?_

The clouds parted as Dragon's ship flew downwards. The fog was thick enough not to let the sunlight through despite Dragon's huge airship, but I could still see the clouds billow out from under it. The ship lowered, flanked by ten heroes. Legend was among them.

As was Eidolon. He looked in good condition.

"Fucking hell," I muttered.

I heard a laugh beside me. Madison was smiling. "They tipped their hand," she said.

"How so?"

"Rapid healing means Panacea's in town. Probably on Dragon's ship. See if they protect it."

 _Shit, Panacea was on that ship all along? I should have realized that._ "I was wondering where she was," I said. I held up the radio. "Somebody going to fire on that ship?"

" _Gah, I'm getting into position, sorry."_ Kid Win cried through the radio. He had some long range cannon that he had drummed up. He told me his specialty was modular design but I wasn't sure what that meant. In practice he could make weapons, so that was fine.

"Oh, we have some ground heroes too," Madison said nodding her head to the side. "Looks like we're surrounded."

I stood atop an apartment building waiting for the heroes to arrive, and they did. They surrounded Madison and me. There couldn't have been _that_ many heroes, but there were enough.

Panacea was here. That made her the highest priority.

The immediate problem was that her presence would force ruthlessness. Even if we cut off a leg or knocked a hero out, Panacea could put them back on the battlefield in minutes. To combat that the only option was to kill our opponents.

It was counter-intuitive, but a Panacea on the battlefield would only make the fight _more_ deadly.

Did the PRT realize that? Or—

"Ah."

"You better have that realization quickly," Madison said. "They're already in position."

"Panacea's here to null out my master ability," I said. "If she's in the airship then even someone bitten can be hauled up to the ship to be un-mastered."

It would make perfect sense, but only if the PRT didn't know how my ability worked. Panacea repeatedly has said in public she can't fix brains. And my master ability affects the brain especially. So she can't actually un-master anybody. But she wouldn't know that until she got her hands on one of my thralls.

They had Skidmark.

" _Okay, I'm ready."_ Kid Win said.

"Shoot it," I said and dropped the radio. I wouldn't be able to fight with it in my hand and there were no clothes on my body I could loop it onto.

A beam shot across the sky towards the airship. Before impact the beam bounced off an invisible shield and was flung off into the sky. Madison disappeared.

The battle had started. I unfolded my wings and leaped off the side of the building. Some sort of projectile smashed into the apartment complex behind me as I fell. I couldn't tell what it was but when I got a meter off the ground I leveled out and rushed towards the source. There were two heroes using a car for cover.

When they saw me approach, swords appeared in the air and stabbed into me. There was no pain and besides causing weird drag didn't slow me down. I sped right into the car they hid behind and rammed it, smashing the car into them and into the ground. The swords disappeared as I did so.

The car crumpled. I immediately rushed around the corner of a building as lasers rained from the sky. I snuck a glance upwards and saw legend.

"Shit," I cursed. A laser hit a meter from me. _Does he not have better control than that, or is he trying to give me a warning?_ I ran for the nearest door I could find and thrust it open. Some sort of shop.

Weaknesses one: Legend had to see me to target me. A basic one, but it was important. It meant he would stay in the sky. If Legend came down onto the street all I would have to do is round a corner and he'd have to follow. A perfect opportunity for me to jump and bite him.

So he'd stay in the air and hit me from above.

I didn't know how to exploit that. But knowing the tactic he would use felt like something. The first piece of the puzzle.

A hero holding an odd rifle barged into the storefront behind me. He leveled it and I threw a table at him.

The table disintegrated before it touched him.

"Fuck, that's dangerous." I said.

Before he pointed it at me I dashed towards him. It doesn't take long to aim a rifle so I changed direction and hid behind a tall shelf with a bunch of souvenirs on it. A building with a roof provided protection from Legend, but also trapped me with close-ranged heroes.

I grabbed the shelf and shoved it over. As it fell I dashed towards the exit, but the hero fired at me. I buckled and let myself smash into the ground as something crashed into the wall behind me. There was a loud crack, but I wasn't hit.

A quick glance was all I could spare to the back wall before continuing my rush forward. The wall was charred black, but not gone.

 _Not as effective for the second shot?_ I could use that, but I already smashed through the window back onto the street. Instead of going back to take the gun-hero out, I had to deal with more lasers raining from the sky. I dodged the first few but then one finally hit me. My momentum was halted as the beam smashed into my wings and they exploded.

I fell over backwards onto the street and could see Legend up in the sky. Next to him was Eidolon, coming towards me.

Both those sights were quickly obscured by a flurry of bats. They rushed around me. It was the same feeling as back in the apartment, but this time I could see it. Only part of me was in the ether.

It _wasn't_ the ether though. It was right there. The bats swirled around before organizing themselves on my back. They reformed my wings.

All three of us paused for a moment.

Instant-healing.

Bonesaw said my ability was a pathogen. A pathogen that desperately tried to keep its host, me, alive. In that respect it wasn't a disease, but it spread and acted like one. She tried to paralyze me and it adapted to counteract the effects.

And now it adapted to losing limbs. My ability _realized I kept losing body parts_ , and developed a way to deal with it. Like it was thinking.

I was afraid.

Madison's face appeared in front of me. "You're too slow," she barked and laid her hand on my stomach. Both of us were then a few blocks away under an awning. "And stop playing around. Just kill them." She put a dagger in my hand. "If you let them live Panacea will put them back on the battlefield."

And she was gone, leaving a dagger in my hand. I dragged myself up and spun in each direction figuring out where the next attack would come from.

 _I don't want to kill them._

 _I don't want to, but there's no other choice._ It really came to this. The dagger was cold in my hands as five heroes ran towards me. If I tried to run the opposite way, Eidolon was waiting.

I dashed out from under the awning and spread my wings, intending to take to the sky. Legend immediately shot his lasers at them and fried them off. Like before they exploded into bats and reformed, but it took a few seconds for that to happen.

Legend could prevent me from flying. Fuck.

Instead I ran towards the five heroes. I didn't recognize them but as I ran I saw a green sheen appear. _Some sort of force-field?_ I didn't know what any of their powers were. Maybe Eidolon would have been the better choice to run towards. The devil you know and all that.

 _Damn, I probably fell into their trap._ It was a stupid thing to do, but I stopped and reversed direction. My wings reformed so I tried to take off again, but as expected Legend shot them off.

I smashed into something invisible on my way towards Eidolon, bounced off and fell to the ground.

I was trapped by some force field. I ran to the side to test it and I saw one of the heroes hold out his hands. Another green sheen appeared where I intended to run. _Can he have two at once, or did the first one disappear?_

A chance to ask wouldn't come. Madison appeared behind him in mid-air, wheelchair missing, her hand extended holding a knife at his throat. She slashed his neck and before she hit the ground she was gone again. The force-field hero clutched his throat and fell to the ground. His comrades turned to his aide as blood pooled in the street.

 _Chance._ I rushed towards them, a laser in the sky burning off my right wing, shoulder and entire right side of my body. My forward momentum still brought what was left of me into the heroes as the bats came back to reform my body.

I was holding the knife in my right arm which didn't come back though, so all I could do was elbow one of the heroes in the face and continue on my way.

Madison had saved me. Brutally.

Most heroes weren't equipped with any healing or invulnerability. People didn't realize it, but most heroes were just as vulnerable as the average person. And sure, they wore armor, but most needed to be able to maneuver. That left lots of weak points.

Madison's hyper-accurate teleportation made her an assassin. That's the path she'd taken with it. The heroes in that group didn't have time to react before one of their own was dead.

There would be no Panacea healing for him. Madison made sure of that.

 _How can she be so ruthless?_

Legend bombarded me, but every attack he sent my way only turned my body into bats. And they always came back together. It had happened so many times that it didn't feel weird any more. But I was tired of fucking Legend wailing on me.

My only refuge was to run into a building. But that only brought me back to where I'd been earlier. I found a staircase and took it to the roof, but I wasn't making progress.

The wall to my right exploded, throwing me into the office space. There were people here, huddled in a corner. The paralytic hadn't knocked them out.

That was the extent I was able to think to before a blue blur smashed into me, throwing me and it out of the large double-paned window. It shattered as both of us fell onto the street. I heaved the hero off me, but she recovered and pulled her hand back to throw a punch.

My hand closed around a large shard of glass and I emulated Madison, slashing at her neck. Her punch landed and completely caved my chest in, but I also hit my mark and cut her throat.

I recovered. She did not.

"Taylor Anne Hebert!"

Time stopped. _That voice shouldn't be here._ Of all the places that voice should be, _definitely not here._ I slowly stood up, the blue-clad hero dying at my feet. She was hardly more than an afterthought.

It couldn't be real.

My dad couldn't be standing there in the middle of the road. It had to be a trick. One of the heroes making an illusion. A trick. A trick. It was a trick.

But Vista was standing right next to him. If it was an illusion, why would she be there to?

"Dad...?"

"What do you think you're doing?" He roared.

 _Dammit dad, I can't protect you right now. I can't win this fight and protect you at the same time._ I'm already counting on Emma to keep Faultline and the others safe back in the apartment. But now you're here.

The heroes surrounded me again. Legend and Eidolon loomed over me as six heroes flanked me on either side.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Instead I stared at Vista. _She_ brought him here. _What does that little brat think she's doing? Doesn't she realize how dangerous this is?_

My right hand shook and I grabbed it with my left. "Dad..."

"Hey, stop," yelled Vista. She ran _next to me_ and faced the _heroes,_ bringing my dad with her.I spun around to see Eidolon lower his outstretched arm. "Stop fighting," she screamed.

"You're defending her?" Eidolon asked.

"Stop it. You need to stop thinking like that." There were tears in Vista's eyes. "Heroes are dying. You can't keep doing this, none of you can. Stop it. Please, just stop it."

Dad cross his arms. "Especially you, Taylor. I thought you were better than this."

I bit my lip. _Dad, you don't get it. It's not like that._ I didn't want it to come to this, I just wanted to be left alone. It's their fault, not mine.

"Get out of the way," Eidolon ordered.

"No," Vista shouted. "You don't have to fight. Just talk to each other. All you have to do is _talk._ "

"I tried that," I said. It was more for my dad's benefit than theirs. "I really did, I swear. Their ears are filled with cotton."

Dad slapped me.

That was the first time that had ever happened.

"That is not an excuse for what you've done, young lady."

I could hear it the anger in his voice. He was angry with me. All I could do was look down. "I'm sorry."

 _But I can't back down._ If Madison and I couldn't convince the PRT there was no way Vista could. They're going to fighting endlessly until they're out of heroes.

This was a nice little respite, but that's all it was. Whatever Vista and my dad thought to accomplish by coming here was pointless. I have to plan my next move for when the fighting starts up again.

Protecting my dad was the only priority. If I tried to fly away Legend would shoot my wings off, so I had to grab dad and run. Heroes were on all sides and no conveniently-placed building would provide cover. I would have to force my way through.

The southern heroes looked weakest. If I made it through I'd have to run for the apartment and drop him off with the others.

I shook my head. _No, maybe that isn't the best strategy._ That would only put him in more danger. If I took off by myself, yes he would be in PRT hands, but they wouldn't kill him. He would be captured but that would be a problem for another day.

That was a better plan. I nodded to myself. As soon as there was a break, I would run for it alone and leave my dad behind. I'm sorry, dad, but I can't stop now.

I shifted my foot to get ready to bolt.

Legend dropped out of the sky. "Very well," he said. "Let's talk."

…what?


	27. Red Sky 3-4

**Red Sky 3.4**

What the hell did Vista say to him? Dammit, I wasn't paying attention! What could Vista have possibly said that would make Legend come down and agree to talk? It was a miracle, a miracle occurred right in front of my face.

 _And I wasn't paying fucking attention!_

Legend and I stared at each other. What was I supposed to say? I tried talking _time and time again_ and it always led to violence. There wasn't anything to do. The same charade will go through again and we'll be at our throats by the hour's end.

Both of us must know this, so there's no point. There's no point at all except to delay.

 _Delay what, though?_ The paralytic was already gone and the only thing to wait for now is when the city awakens. The paralytic didn't put the entire city to sleep but it got a lot of people. In two hours from now it will be a problem.

It wouldn't be good for anyone. It only floods the city with civilians and that means more chances for collateral damage. _Do they think that will stop me?_ They shouldn't take that risk.

"A table," Vista said. "Do it properly. Sit down at a table and talk." She crossed her arms.

Someone took her at her word and ran off, dragging a park bench behind them a few minutes later. Neither Legend nor I said a word as the bench was slid between us. The first thing I thought of when I saw it was the quickest way to escape out of it.

Probably best to thrust the table part up and rip it off from the bench part. I had the strength for it. Plus it might hit Legend in the face which, if nothing else, would make me feel better.

"Sit, sit." Vista insisted.

I stepped towards the park bench and sat down at the same time as Legend. The bench had water damage. It may have somehow survived Leviathan. I glanced up to see Eidolon sit next to Legend with an empty spot on their left. If Alexandria were still here I imagine that would have been her place.

"Madison," I said.

She didn't need any more direction than that. Madison appeared next to me already sitting down. I wasn't about to be outnumbered.

"Ceasefire negotiations, huh." She said. She held her hands together and set them on the table. "I think we all already know, but Wingspan, go ahead and tell them what we want."

I looked at Madison, then turned back towards the enemies across this table. "I want you to leave."

Eidolon scoffed. "And we want you in the Birdcage."

Legend held up his hand. "This is the wrong thing to say. Neither of us is going to get what we want. All either of us can hope for is an agreement we can both _accept._ Even if we don't like it."

I stared at the two heroes. Their masks made it hard to speak to them like actual people. They may as well have been statues.

"Wingspan, anything to say?" Legend asked.

I looked back down. "I agree with what you said. So what should we start with? The absolute minimum?"

"We're negotiating a ceasefire," Madison said. "So the backbone needs to be, you know, ceasing fire. You guys won't fight us, we won't fight you. That has to be our starting point."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, Transistor." Legend said. He leaned forward. "It's easy to say we won't fight, but the reality is the Protectorate can't let a criminal organization run rampant _._ We're in the business of enforcing order and peace. Not ignoring criminals as they take over cities."

They won't leave me alone. They're going to gun for me to go to the Birdcage.

"If we have to compromise, so do you." Madison said. "The Birdcage is off the table. For anyone. If you can't agree to that much, there's no point in talking. You'd be a hypocrite."

Eidolon looked like he wanted to protest, but Legend took the reigns of the conversation. "You're right. We will not demand anyone goes to the Birdcage. But in turn, you cannot demand that we leave this city in your hands."

"Reasonable. We've taken a small step." Madison turned to me. I briefly nodded. I followed the conversation, but it was a little tough. Everyone was in my sights and I had to be prepared for when it went sideways.

It was just a small step. We've only restated we're compromising, but with more words. The Birdcage is off the table, but so is getting them to leave. That's hardly a cease fire. That sort of negotiation isn't enough to stop the combat.

The only thing that could stop the combat is—

"You have to stop pursuing us," I said. "If the Birdcage is off the table all that leaves is normal prisons. If we came to some agreement like 'I spend life in prison,' it's a joke. It would take no effort to escape and we'd be right back here where we started."

"Breaking out would be your own choice. You would have been the one to break the agreement and the consequences would be your fault."

"I'm _not_ spending my life in prison," I said.

"Let's be serious," Madison said. "You can't demand any real prison time. This isn't a surrender. You aren't in a powerful enough position to ask that. All you can do is token sentences to save face with the public. Though..." She slid a smile onto her face. "Personally I think such an action would be even more embarrassing."

Eidolon crossed his arms. We'd spoken, and now it's their turn. "We've already said this, but it isn't possible for us to look the other way at everything you've done."

"I can say this," Legend said. "Whatever this agreement comes to, we _must_ have a cessation of any future illegal activities."

Reasonable. "That's fi—"

"That's _almost_ fine," Madison interrupted. "Certainly we are willing to work within the bounds of the law, but only if it makes accommodations. Consider Wingspan's ability and those she mastered. The cars and vehicles, Faultline's crew, Parian, the others who've allied themselves and villains who have been angered. There needs to be leeway for certain things. Fighting amongst gangs is illegal, but you can't ask us not to defend ourselves if the Travelers or Undersiders do something. You certainly can't ask us to disarm ourselves."

"A demilitarized zone," Legend suggested.

"What's that?" I asked.

"In war it's an established area where neither side is allowed to have any military presence. No troops, buildings, vehicles, nothing."

"Won't work," Eidolon said. "If you drew some sort of zone through the city, Wingspan on one side and us on the other, it would be a villain corridor. Every other group would know the PRT can't step foot in there and neither could Wingspan. Crime would run rampant."

Madison smiled. There was no way I could know what she was thinking. The last thing I wanted was to let her decide my fate, but she would be best at it. If this talk led to something, it would be her doing.

 _I_ couldn't do it.

"We aren't two sides of a war," Legend said. "So maybe my idea was off base. We're a police agency. Our goal is to keep this city safe and prevent crime. Giving you territory and letting you do what you please with it isn't possible. We can't treat this like two warring factions."

"Then how do you propose we treat it?"

There was a long pause before Legend spoke next. I couldn't tell if he was thinking of an answer or if he already knew the answer and hesitated on saying it. Madison was perfectly content in letting him squirm and I followed her direction.

Legend's answer wasn't something I ever would have expected.

"Ultimately, we need to work together."

"Hold on," Eidolon said. "What do you mean?"

"Peace treaties are not formed in a day," Madison said. "And such a thing could never happen at this table. We can't shoot for the moon, we just need to get our feet on the ground."

"Which is why I said the word ultimately." Legend crossed his arms. "This ceasefire needs to pave the way though. It needs to pave the way towards an alliance. Because you've taken too many of ours, Wingspan." He stared at me. "Those heroes you tricked and captured, you mastered them, right? You wouldn't kill them."

I glanced at Madison but she didn't look at me. "I've mastered most of them," I said.

"We need them back. For the Endbringers and for upholding peace in our cities. We need them back."

"My ability isn't reversible," I said. "Or at least not that I'm aware of. I told you this back in the air."

He nodded. "Panacea confirmed it."

Panacea? How did she... oh. Skidmark had been captured. They had her inspect him, huh? Panacea couldn't do brains so there wasn't anything she could do against that. Though I really wanted to know what she coulddo about everything else.

"We need them back all the same," Legend repeated. "So we need _you._ "

The implication was huge. Is Legend really saying that he wants me to join the Protectorate or something? That would... that would... There was a huge, glaring reason it wouldn't work. In two-and-a-half years I would end the world. In two-and-a-half years I would either be dead or every human being on the planet would be my thrall.

And with no more people to bite we would probably go insane or die. I'm not sure what happens if I go too long without mastering anybody. A terrible end of planet Earth and none of them knew it was coming.

It's why they could propose such a plan. Because they didn't know how dangerous I _really_ was. Because they didn't know I was the harbinger of death, worse than all three Endbringers put together. If I said that out loud this negotiation would cease. It would cease immediately and the whole world would come together to try to kill me.

—Wait.

"If that's the case then we need to rethink our goal right here," Madison said. "We should agree on some temporary agreement to stop the fighting with the understanding future negotiations will be held about all the details."

Legend nodded. "Critical things only, huh."

—They shouldn't be going along like this.

Madison kept talking, but it was hard to pay attention. They could only talk like this because they didn't know the extent of my ability. The exponential mastering that I would have to do. But Panacea inspected someone I infected. She should know. If Panacea really put her hands on him, she would know and immediately tell Legend.

They _had_ to know. _Panacea told us as much._ That's what he said. But it was a contradiction. If Panacea had really told him anything then there wouldn't be talks in the first place. Which meant it was a bluff. Panacea wasn't really here. She was probably still in India.

 _But why bluff about something like that?_ I scrunched my eyebrows. What possible benefit could us believing Panacea was in the area have to the PRT? So far it's only made us be more lethal.

"Wingspan?" Legend asked. I looked up.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?"

"Are you seriously not paying attention?" Eidolon said. "At least have the respect to—"

"I'm sorry," I said. _Fuck._ "There's a lot to think about. I didn't meant to give that impression."

Legend sighed. "We're focusing on necessary agreements only. The first one is we stop fighting one another. No hostile actions between the Protectorate and your group. The second is that we want a cessation of illegal activity on your part."

"I can agree not to be aggressive, but we will defend ourselves if attacked by other gangs."

"Good enough."

"Well, that actually brings up another point," Madison said. She started talking about borders and territory and I tried to follow along, but it was nagging me too much. Why were they faking Panacea being here? Panacea was an incredibly powerful hero who could heal the injured within minutes.

Why would that sort of ability want to be faked?

Maybe to make the enemy surrender, but it didn't work with us. So there had to be another reason Legend was keeping up the lie.

Was it to make me believe she had inspected Skidmark? That could be it. They wanted me to believe they knew everything about me. How my ability worked in full. Panacea getting her hands on Skidmark revealed all the secrets of how it worked.

That's what they want me to believe.

They want me to believe that I have no more secrets. But I do. That _has_ to be it. They want to make me vulnerable and weak and exposed and they want me to surrender and beg for mercy. That's their goal.

"There is only one thing left we must address," Legend said. "And that's the prisoners. This cease fire cannot be agreed upon unless we have your prisoners returned to us."

"We already said the mastering can't be reversed," Madison said.

"Wingspan said she mastered _most_ of them," Legend said. "Those who you have not, return them to us. We'll give you back our prisoner in return."

I narrowed my gaze at Legend. Another thing that didn't make sense. He was bluffing about Panacea being here, but he definitely still had Skidmark in custody. He shouldn't be willing to hand him over without having Panacea examine him first. Even if she's in India, flying her over would be possible for a quick examination.

If they were lying about Panacea they wouldn't give up Skidmark. But they can't be telling the truth about her, because then we would still be fighting.

Nothing made sense at all.

"That's fine," I said softly. There was so much that didn't make sense and I felt terrible making agreements while so lost. I didn't understand the playing field. I didn't understand it at all and yet I was sacrificing chips and bargaining for things that might not matter in the slightest.

"We'll have something written up quickly then," Legend said. "And we can sign it. A formality, but we need something to stop all this."

"Hold on," Madison said. "This is all well and good, but it's not just the two of us. The PRT is in this as well. This needs to be a three-way agreement between us, the Protectorate and the PRT. We'll need the director's signature."

Legend and Eidolon gave each other a look. "The director isn't, ah, available."

"Now who's being disrespectful," I uttered.

"This isn't a loophole we can let slide," Madison said. "Unless you want us to start exclusively slaughtering PRT agents. Again."

 _That 'again' wasn't necessary, Madison._

"We'll find someone to sign it. The deputy director." Legend offered. Madison shrugged and accepted, but neither of us were comfortable. What could the PRT director be doing that was more important than this moment, right now? I know it's a big world but it's probably me who's causing the biggest incident today.

There was too much I didn't understand.

We sat there in silence as some sort of document was drafted up by someone I couldn't see.

"Keep the language simple please," Madison said. "This document is just a formality, but I'd like to avoid circular language to lure us into some sort of weird agreement. The last thing you guys need is _another_ excuse to inflict baseless violence."

Madison had a little to much fun with this. If the jabs had any affect I didn't notice it. Instead I tried to make sense of everything while we waited.

Panacea was the heart of it all, but I couldn't think of anything that would explain the heroes' actions. Whatever magic words Vista said to make this happen must have been amazing. I wish I had listened.

"Here it is," Legend said as some hero I didn't recognize handed him a sheet of paper. He slid it over to Madison and me. As demanded the language was simple to understand and the deputy director's signature was already on it.

The agreement said that neither I nor anyone under me would attack the PRT, Protectorate or Wards. Similarly, they wouldn't attack me or those under me. Next it said prisoners would be returned immediately upon signing. It also said that I couldn't take any aggressive actions or conduct illegal activity not necessary for self-preservation.

Lastly it said the ceasefire only holds for ten days and must be renewed, with the expectation that future talks will occur in the future.

Madison nodded to me after she finished reading. Legend handed me a pen and I scribbled my signature, _Taylor Hebert._ Legend took it and wrote "Legend" in fancy cursive. I guess his real name would be a little absurd to hope for.

"Well," I said. "That was, uh. Easy..."

"Told you," Vista shouted. "All you have to do is _talk,_ we're not Endbringers. We can talk and understand each other."

There was an awkward moment where I tried to locate a radio so I could order my people around, but I couldn't find one until Madison disappeared and came back. She caused a very tense moment where the heroes thought she had just assassinated someone again, but that wasn't the case.

Madison handed me the radio like she hadn't almost sabotaged everything.

"Emma," I said. "How is everything?"

" _Labyrinth is here."_

…oops.

I'd forgotten.

In the heat of the action and the terror of the negotiations, I'd forgotten. I tried to push the button on the radio but missed and dropped it. I grabbed it again off the ground quickly, but everyone saw. "I'm coming," I said.

"Hold on," Legend said. "There's things to discuss still."

"Madison will speak for me," I said. "I'm going to free those prisoners. Be a little patient."

I spread my wings and took off, heading back towards the apartment. The combat hadn't taken me that far away so I was there within the minute. I radioed Emma and told her to do what Madison said and release the prisoners.

I had to see Elle. I landed on the roof and ran down the staircase to the third floor. They were in the apartment in the middle.

The entire hallway was black. Like Grue's ability, except different. It wasn't an inky blackness. The walls and floor and ceiling were just... black. I walked slowly through where the hallway should be but stopped after only three steps.

Elle walked out from the shadows and stood in front of me. Her eyes were red from crying.

I fell to my knees. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She didn't respond.

"I'm sorry." I repeated. There wasn't anything else I could say. I didn't know what other words there were. The phrase "I'm sorry" wasn't enough, no matter how many times I said it, but it's all I could say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so—"

"Annoying."

I closed my mouth. I didn't have the courage to look up at her. I could only crouch at her feet. Because of me Elle's best friend is dead. It's unforgivable.

The blackness turned to a large meadow by Elle's power. The floor under me turned to grass, slowly shifting with the wind. We were somewhere else entirely, far away from Brockton Bay and any of its problems.

Rain poured.

I tried not to scream, but it was beyond my control. I could take Legend's lasers, being shot at and Eidolon tearing me apart. But not this.

I yelled. I screamed from the pain.

My mind went blank. Memories flashed before my eyes. The firetrucks. The wake of Leviathan. The PRT shower. Faultline and her faucet in Las Vegas. All those times rushing water hurt me, but it wasn't like this. This was the first time someone used it to _really_ hurt me.

And it was Elle. It was Elle doing this to me.

I kept screaming. _I want it to stop. I want it to stop. Stop. Stop. Please. Stop._

Please.

My vision went white. I trembled and shook, unable to escape the rain. I couldn't move or escape, and even if I could we were in the middle of an open field. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the weather. Only Elle could make it stop.

 _I want it to stop._ Even if I deserved this for letting Emily die, even if Elle deserved to do this to me, I don't want to die. _I don't want to die._ This rain—I couldn't even appreciate how ridiculous it was. Wingspan, who brought the PRT to its knees, killed with a little rain.

It was worse. I screamed so much my throat hurt.

This pain was worse than before. The stronger I got, the more my weaknesses hurt. Pain worse than that shower in the PRT building should have been impossible.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt there's pain, pain pain pain pain pain pain—

It kept going. Pain. It just didn't stop. My body wouldn't let me die. I was dying, but I couldn't.

It wouldn't stop.


	28. Red Sky 3-5

**Red Sky 3.5**

It wouldn't stop.

Even after the rain finally did, the pain wouldn't. It lingered and I couldn't move. Even using my eyes was difficult. I thought I saw Faultline and Newter holding Elle, but it was all guesswork.

I couldn't move and my senses were useless. Even my brain wasn't responding. My ability to think was blocked by the pain. There was so much to think about but I couldn't remember what any of it was.

All I could focus on was myself.

I was in the fetal position. Someone stepped in front of me and leaned over but I couldn't tell who it was. My head wouldn't rotate up to look at their face.

They laid down next to me and placed their head next to mine. It was Emma. _Damn it Emma, you're supposed to be telling everyone to give the heroes their heroes back._ _Don't look at me like that. Like you understand. Like you care._

 _Leave me alone and be useful, Emma. Or are you truly a betrayer at heart?_

"—she okay?" Faultline's voice.

"I don't know," responded Emma. The words faded in and out. I could barely catch their meaning. Minutes ticked by. All of us were waiting for my body to do its thing and heal. It's what it was best at.

We waited for my ability. I coughed when I tried to speak, but I barely got out the words.

"I'm... sorry..."

My body ached. My joints were in pain and my eyelids were heavy. I wanted to sleep. I just wanted to sleep.

Faultline grabbed me and hoisted me up to lay against the wall. "There isn't time for you to sleep," she said. "You're needed. Pull it together."

 _Pull it together? I'd like to see you try to pull it together in this situation._ I sent signals to my joints, but they barely moved. "Guh," I muttered.

"I'm interpreting that as a 'roger, understood.' Got it?" Faultline said, grabbing my body and hoisting me over her shoulder. "I'm carrying you, so get better by the time we arrive."

 _Jesus, have a little sympathy._

She carried me out of the apartment and down the stairs. The street should have been littered with corpses but there were none to be found. The blood was still there though. I wasn't so fortunate for it all to have been a dream.

"How long," I coughed.

"Two hours, or so." Faultline said. "The city's going to wake up soon."

Two hours? It's been _two hours?_ How long... how long did Labyrinth do that to me? How long did they _let_ Labyrinth do that to me?

Faultline heaved me into the back seat of a van. My dad was in the backseat next to me. I fell over into his lap unable to control my body.

"What's wrong with her?" He asked. There was a quiver in his voice.

"Internal dispute," Faultline said. "She should recover. It's... happened before. If you could help her into those clothes."

I was still naked. _Wow._ I was naked at those negotiations and everything. There was probably still blood on me too. I didn't even think about it. Vista must have had some magic words to convince Legend to talk. That entire conversation must have been like dealing with a monster.

My dad tried to fit one of my custom outfits over me. One that Elle made.

It wasn't _like_ dealing with a monster. It _was._ When a nice person like Elle can't see the good in me anymore, when Faultline heaves me into the back of a van with no concern and when I ally myself with people like Madison Clements there's only one conclusion.

Evil.

The plan had made sense and everyone agreed, but it had gone wrong. Something had gone sour and I became evil.

The van took off after dad dressed me up. I could move well enough to help, but there was a dull pain. A dull pain all over. And I was tired. I wanted to sleep.

But for some reason I couldn't. Things were happening around me. Things that I couldn't ignore because they were _about_ me. Everything was about me. All of this chaos in Brockton Bay and everything that's happened was about me.

I was the big, bad guy. Minions circled around me as the heroes desperately tried to defeat me. In this story I was the bad guy for the heroes to defeat. That was my role.

 _I didn't want that role._

The van stopped. The drive hadn't been more than a few minutes. We were still on the same side of town. Faultline and my dad helped me out of the van, holding my arms over their shoulders to help me walk. Without it I would have fallen onto the ground.

We walked a little ways to a large building but I didn't know what it was. It was fancy-looking.

Madison appeared in front of me in her wheelchair. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Internal dispute," Faultline said.

"I'm supposed to accept that? It's _pretty_ _important_ Taylor looks strong right now. Can she even stand up?"

"What," I started. "What's going on?" My words started to slur.

Madison groaned. "Perfect. While you've been off wherever, the Protectorate and I were working through a plan to keep the city calm after the whole paralytic fiasco. It's going to start wearing off soon, so we need some serious riot control. Gotta keep everyone calm. They're also pretty pissed off you just vanished."

Made sense. A comb brushed through my hair but the handle wasn't attached to a hand. I looked around and saw Shamrock with her arms crossed.

"Basically, we've had cars going around with loudspeakers giving updates on the situation. Panic occurs when people have no information and start imagining the worst-case scenario. We figured a simple way to prevent this is to give a steady stream of updates, even if they're complete lies." Madison scratched her elbow. "Well, we're not lying in this case, but it doesn't matter. The idea is that even though nobody can move, they can see and hear. We're spreading the so-called good news as wide as possible so people know that progress is being made and they're going to be all right."

Typical cold, logical Madison. I don't know where she would have picked up knowledge on how to control panicking people.

"So now we're having an official, filmed agreement. You get to shake hands with Legend. I was kind of hoping you would look formidable and imposing, not..." Madison waved her hands up and down. "...like this."

 _You're one to talk, you're in a god damn wheelchair._ Madison put her finger to her chin and muttered a few things but the expression on her face didn't get any nicer. If I had to guess she was trying to think of some solution. Sorry for being useless.

My dad and Faultline set me down on the stairs. Using my wings I was able to keep my balance and not fall over, but just barely. There was no way I could stand at attention, shake Legend's hand with authority and look imposing on camera. This isn't something I would have agreed to do in the first place.

"You'll have to sit, I guess." Madison said. "People will notice, but there's nothing to do about that. There might be a way to spin it, but nothing's coming to me on such short notice. Hmm, the best entrance would probably be in my chair... no, maybe with you two supporting her... ugh. They're all bad."

"Can she use your chair as a crutch?" Faultline asked. "She pushes your chair out to a table, someone will bring out another chair for her and she can quickly sit down after pushing you into position."

"Ah, good idea." Madison looked down at me sitting on the stairs. _They want me to walk? Do I look like I can walk, you guys?_ Sitting upright took all of my attention.

But there wasn't any way I could say no. I've caused enough trouble. At the very least I can do something as simple as walk.

"H-Help me up, please." I said.

Dad held my arms and pulled me up off the stairs. I was pretty light so I don't think it was any trouble for him. He lined me up with the back of Madison's chair and helped me grab onto the back handles. When he let go I made sure to fall in the direction of the chair and drag my feet in the forward direction.

Somehow I didn't fall completely over, but it was wobbly.

"It'll have to do," Faultline said. "It's not like there's any time to spare. Go."

Madison led the way. She was the one moving the chair while I hung on trying to not fall. We went around the fancy building and navigated through some white columns. On the other side, at the top of some steep stairs, was Legend standing behind a table. Emma fast-walked ahead of me holding a wooden chair and set it down on the same side.

Oh, we were going to face the cameras. So I had to sit next to Legend.

My legs wobbled and my hands ached as we got closer. The table was a mile away. Every step I took was the potential for disaster, but I fought through it. I was flying around those heroes like it was nothing a few hours ago and now I have to fight for a single step.

I faltered and almost fell. _Fuck, everyone saw that._ I could hear Madison click her tongue.

Eventually we got to the table and I could sit down. Madison sat in her chair next to me.

"You don't look so good, Wingspan." Legend said.

"It's called taking responsibility, you should—" I coughed. "—try it sometime," I spat. But as the words left my mouth I stopped looking at Legend and looked _past_ him. It was intended as an insult but I paused to think about it.

 _How do I take responsibility for all of this?_ It's spiraled into madness. This table in front of me, that camera beyond it and Legend at my side. This—this is the beginning of my victory. Of the PRT finally stepping back and letting me be.

But the cost has been paid by hundreds of unrelated people. And it shouldn't be. It should be my burden to bear. I should take responsibility for those who've died and those who will live but were scarred forever.

"Let's get started then," Legend said. He gestured to some camera people, and a few actions and switches were flipped. Even though I had rolled Madison out to the table, she had rolled herself back. Only Legend and I were on camera.

Someone gave a thumbs up. Legend nodded.

"Today a crisis occurred in the city of Brockton Bay. Without warning the sky was dyed red and an army spilled onto the streets. The number of Protectorate and Wards members in the city was low after the tragic loss of most of its capes during the August Endbringer attack and was not prepared for this assault. The person responsible is sitting next to me, Wingspan."

"Taylor," I said. I held down a cough. "Just Taylor."

He looked over at me, probably a little miffed I interrupted his speech, but continued. "When it seemed like Taylor would successfully take over the entire city, pushing aside heroes and villains alike, a large-scale response was issued. Despite not being officially declared an S-class threat the response was similar. There was precedent and it's been done before, but today it was definitely a mistake."

Legend took a deep breath. "We were foolish. Our response was swift and on a large scale. This meant that critical information didn't have time to be shared, things that anyone in Brockton Bay probably knew. A paralytic gas that dispersed over almost the entire city downed forty-eight heroes as well as an innumerable number of civilians. A devastating loss and those who escaped couldn't go back into the city without a gas mask. We hadn't prepared for that even though we should have and _could_ have.

"I regret to say that of those forty-eight heroes, only twenty walked back. The rest were mastered by Taylor, an irreversible process. It's—"

I coughed and slammed my hand on the table. Legend stopped and stared at me. "I offered," I growled. "I flew up to Eidolon and offered to return them all. He shot me."

He frowned. "Right." After regaining his composure he moved on with his speech. I wondered how designed his speech was to cut me down. "Following assaults only suffered even more losses. Our goal of killing or capturing Taylor was a failure. I cannot deny this. But to those of you watching, that's obvious considering she's sitting next to me.

"It's this position that highlights our mistake. Taylor was given an Endbringer-like response, but not only did she not deserve it, it didn't work. Precisely because she _isn't_ one. Because she isn't one, she was able to exploit how we'd respond. Because she isn't one, she has followers and allies beyond those she's mastered. And because she isn't an Endbringer, we could stop the fighting and killing. We managed to stop it not through violence and power, but words. Words. All we needed to stop the death and destruction was the right set of words."

Legend looked over at me. He stared despite continuing on with his speech. "But the meaning behind those words is even stronger. Words allow us to understand each other, and though we've managed to put a stop to the fighting, both Taylor and I know it's flimsy. Temporary." He turned back to the camera. "But if we continue to talk and build a fortress of ideas and agreements, we can strengthen this shaky little peace. It will require a lot of compromise, but above else it will require forgiveness."

He looked back at me. "From both sides."

"I'm sure there will be a lot of talks and discussions about this. And I'm sure many of you will point out the only reason this is happening is because Taylor was too strong to beat. That perhaps we don't really mean what we say and this is just a charade to cover up the Protectorate's massive failure. That response... that response cannot be completely denied. But I sincerely hope that the events of today really _can_ springboard into something greater. A greater alliance and understanding between parahumans."

Legend looked to me. I waited for him to continue, but it looked like he was done. He prompted me to start speaking. I faded in and out during his whole speech but I think I had the gist of what he covered.

I stared at the camera.

"I'm sorry," I said. I forced myself not to cough or wheeze. "This war I started has hurt this city. People are dead. Nice people." I paused and my gaze lowered below the camera, at its stand. Even though it was a camera and not an actual person, I couldn't meet its lens. "I'll... I'll..."

What will I do? Make it up to them? Make it right and take responsibility? They're _dead._ Murder is unforgivable. It's literally impossible to be forgiven. They're _dead._

"I want to protect this city," I said finally. "It's suffered so much, and I've hurt it even more by going after the PRT. If they're sincere, I will be too."

Legend followed up with a few more words before the telecast ended. Once the cameras were off he stood up but I wasn't feeling well enough to get back on my feet. I was barely lucid let alone capable of dealing with any of this.

"You could have been more eloquent," Madison commented.

I glared at her. "It's time you explain what's been happening."

She spun her chair around to face me. "Sure. While you were off dealing with, what did Faultline call it? Internal matters? It was generally agreed that the most pressing matter was crowd control in this city. You poisoned the air, you know, and it paralyzed nearly eighty percent of everybody who was downtown at the time. So priority numero uno was keeping everyone calm and providing medical support and logistics for it and all that. The PRT, police and Protectorate is more equipped to do that than we are so they're running with it."

Madison and I looked over at Legend, who was talking with Eidolon and a few people in uniform. Faultline and her crew wandered over to us, weapons in their hands—though lowered. _Yeah, our truce is really built on mutual trust here._

"Look, the truth is no one knows what's going on," Madison said. "We're all thinking in terms of the next hour, the next two hours, things like that. Right now the PRT is going to keep the city from dying. We're not involved in that because we wouldn't help. The broadcast was only to show people the fighting is over and done with."

"Our part is done," Faultine said. Madison clumsily spun her chair around to be able to see her. "It's time to go, Taylor. We have things to discuss."

I nodded and forced myself up out of the chair. I managed to get my balance and take a few steps towards Faultline. What I wanted to do was go home with my dad, but Faultline was right. There were things we needed to talk about.

Dad wanted to come, of course, but there was little he could do against Faultline. We got in the car and headed back to the now shot-up apartment complex. There was a massive PRT presence cleaning up what I had done.

Faultline pulled the car into the parking lot, getting stares from the agents cleaning up the blood. If looks could kill I'd be dead twenty times over. We hurried into the building.

"Did it really have to be here?" I asked softly.

"Yeah, unfortunately."

We went up the stairs—the elevator far from working—to the top floor. It was difficult and I fell down once, but I was back to passable functionality. If I had to fight the PRT again I'm not sure I would fare so well. Faultline opened the door to an abandoned apartment and I followed her inside.

Elle and Emily were on the bed. Elle was asleep, hugging Emily's body.

Faultline gently closed the door to keep her from waking and then sat down on a wooden chair. I crashed on the couch and Shamrock opted to stand by the front door with Gregor, both of them totting rifles.

"Where's Newter?" I asked.

"Kitchen," came his voice from the other room. "It's six you know. Just 'cuz we lit the world on fire doesn't mean men don't gotta eat."

I nodded and turned back to Faultline. There was a silence that hung in the air only broken by the sounds of Newter fixing something to eat in the other room. I knew what Faultline wanted to say. I don't know if she was having trouble saying it or if this was a tactic she was using against me.

"She was going to join the Undersiders, you know." Faultline said.

I bit my lip. "Yeah, she told me that."

"I asked her if she thought Grue would really take care of her. If he would protect her forever and make the sort of commitment a leader _must_ make. Because I told her _I_ would." Faultline put her head in her hands. "I told her I would protect her until the end of my life. If she went with Grue she would have a team, but if she came with me she would have a family."

It was weird to see the calm, collected Faultline distressed like this.

"And it was. I was the mom, Gregor was probably the dad, Elle her sister and Newter the weird older brother." Faultline looked up at me. "And then there was _you._ "

Her eyes shot daggers.

"I found you because I was told to do so and looked after you because you were 'the sort of person I looked after.' There wasn't anywhere else for you in this city so I provided one. Even when you brought a fucking shipping container of baggage with you, I took you in. And here we are."

"This was your idea."

Faultline shot up. "I know that, Taylor." She bellowed. "You think I don't know that? I'm not doing this _for_ me, I'm doing this entirely for you. Everyone else can rest easy in the knowledge that they don't have to feel responsible today. But I do. Because of you, _I have done things today._ And because of decisions _I have made,_ Emily is dead."

I stayed quiet. I shouldn't have said anything.

Faultline turned around and grabbed the back of her chair. "I know that, Taylor. But I still hate you. I hate you so much, even though my rationality says it's my responsibility. I hate you for putting me in this position, for ever walking through the door of my bar."

She screamed something incoherent and threw the chair against the wall. One of its legs buckled from the impact and left a hole where it hit.

"I don't know what to say right now. Instinct tells me we have to push forward. But I really want to tell you to fuck off. But I won't do that, I can't."

I looked at my feet. "Just tell me to leave, Faultline. It's fine."

"No, it's _not._ And don't think you can run away for my own good or any of that nonsense." Without a chair, Faultline opted to pace back and fourth. "I'm not angry at you, Taylor. Not even at myself. I'm just... I'm just _angry._ "

Angry at the world. Whenever I had that feeling I could tell myself that Faultline was in control. That the world may have had it out for me, but Faultline didn't. I had somewhere—no, some _one_ that would look out for me.

The picture of Faultline I had in my mind crumbled.

Faultline groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "All we do is move forward. We're not in a position to do anything else. A united front. A team. Emily is dead, but nothing can change. We can't let it. And you can't order your people to murder everyone either, Taylor, no matter how revenge-stricken you are."

I nodded. "I'm sorry. For that... and everything."

The two of us glanced over at Newter who stood in the door awkwardly holding two plates with sandwiches on them. After seeing the lull in the conversation, he walked in and handed them to Faultline and me. There wasn't a table to eat on, so I put it in my lap.

The food got Faultline to sit on the couch next to me. I grabbed the sandwich, but didn't eat.

"There's something I need to say." I put the sandwich down. "I don't know if it will make you hate me even more, but, umm. I didn't know what to do and I was scared and didn't want her to die, so when I found Emily's body I—"

"We noticed," Faultline said.

"...oh." So they knew. "Uh. I don't know what..."

To even say.

"You've never bitten someone after they died, so we don't know if it will work. You know even if it does things will only get more complicated."

I nodded, and we started to eat our dinners. Newter brought something to the others as well, though he left Elle to sleep in the bedroom. Thinking on that reminded me of what Elle did to me earlier.

It was a punishment I deserved, but:

"Please don't let Elle kill me," I said.

"Could she even do that?" Faultline asked. "Neither Legend nor Eidolon could."

I nodded. "I'm not as invulnerable as that battle made me seem. The firetrucks hadn't been as effective as they could have been but whoever ordered it is on the right track. It occurred to me a few hours ago but that Traveler cape, Sundancer? All they need is her and a fire truck and I'm done. It's been getting worse, by the way. The aversion to sunlight and water."

Faultline nodded.

"Uh, that wasn't some sort of suggestion—"

"Not what I was thinking about. If Emily stands up and starts walking again, Elle will be fine. She probably won't understand entirely what happened in the first place. If not, I have no idea if we can keep her under control."

That only made me feel worse. This entire situation was fucked. I—I knew there were risks, but I hadn't understood them. It's probably not something anyone can understand until they lose someone.

"...the cost of victory, or something like that." I muttered to myself.

"Not to be even more cynical," Faultline added, "but if you're thinking about it like that, the cost isn't just Emily. It's everyone. The PRT agents you slaughtered, the heroes you enthralled and the civilians who died because of the paralytic or fighting. The cost of victory is always the same. Death on a massive scale. And even if you somehow saved Emily..."

Faultline didn't say the next part, but didn't have to. Even with my ability, I couldn't save everyone from death. It—

—it was at that moment a very disturbing thought entered my mind. It was the kind of thought I would have tried to forget I ever had, but I couldn't _not_ explore it. The past few months have had me exploring every idea and avenue I could think of. I had to, to survive. That mental training forced me to come to a certain conclusion.

I couldn't save everyone from death, but—

—but I could save most of them.

Two and a half years until the end of the world. That was the prevalent thought. That was the driving force behind everything Faultline and I have done to this city. In two and a half years I bring about the end of the world. So we have to stop it.

But "the end of the world" is just a phrase. What would _really_ happen is that everyone on Earth would be enthralled. If that really happened, there would be no war. No _crime._ No villains or heroes. Not even police or security guards. With everyone under direct control, literally everyone, it would be easy to make sure the world population was fed, healthy and happy.

The cost of such a future would be blood. Nobody would sit by and let it happen once they realized it was happening. There would be bloody, cruel warfare and I probably wouldn't win.

"Fuck," I said aloud. Faultline looked over, but I didn't explain.

No, this wouldn't work. The problem with this scenario was still the thirst. The need to feed. If the world was completely enthralled, for a few months it would be fine. Until we starved.

This is why Faultline and I are doing what we're doing. Because it's _not_ a viable option. Because after I enthrall the world, the world dies. So the plan stands. I shook that horrible train of thought out of my brain.

"We should discuss Madison," Faultline suggested.

"Fine."

"The obvious question: can we trust her? She had no reservations about betraying the heroes."

That's an understatement. "I watched her kill one of them with nothing but a knife and her ability. I'd say she threw her lot in with us."

"So what's her role going to be?" Faultline asked. "She's not part of the crew and she's not enthralled. Something like the non-aggression deal we made with Parian won't cut it with her either. I don't think she wants territory or a gang to lead."

"She's a fucking sociopath is what she is," I said. "I don't think we'll ever know what she actually wants. But she handled those negotiations well, right? I think she's already made herself our... what, PRT liaison? Our person who talks and negotiates and what have you."

"Weird," said Shamrock from the corner. It was the first time she said anything in the past hour. Both of us looked up at her and it took her a second to notice. She may not have consciously realized she spoke. "She's a perfect assassin. Untouchable and she could kill most of us on a whim. It's weird that she's an ambassador and not something more, you know, stealthy-stabby."

"That good trait for ambassador to have." Gregor offered.

"Oh, good point."

" _Anyways,"_ Faultline said, "Do we treat her as part of the crew, or leave her as a third-wheel to everything?"

Shamrock was first to offer her opinion. "The former will make her less likely to fucking kill us in our sleep, so I vote for that."

A persuasive argument. It's not one I could refute, so I was forced to resign the fact that Madison would—for all intents and purposes—be part of Faultline's crew. After a short discussion there was unanimous agreement, save Elle who was still asleep.

I had a feeling that not enthralling her when I had the chance would come back to bite me someday. But today had ultimately been a failure, and the end of the world still loomed on the horizon. One more person now would exponentially explode.

For now, Madison had to be free.

"Let's get her on the phone."


	29. Interlude (PHO)

**Interlude (PHO)**

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 **Topic: Red Sky Megathread PART TWO**

 **In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**

 _delta_eleven (Original Poster) (At Ground Zero: Brockton Bay)_

 _Posted at 2:15PM:_

The previous thread has degraded into complete speculation ever since the paralytic hit, so I'm starting a new one. Apparently the cross section of people who (a) live in Brockton Bay (b) go on PHO and (c) were intelligent enough to buy a gas mask as soon as Wingspan thought _chemical warfare_ was a viable option contains just me.

So here's what I know.

1\. I don't know how, but according to the radio reports and what I can see outside my window, that paralytic that Wingspan has been using was dispersed all over downtown. Being a Monday in the middle of the day, I imagine most people were there.

2\. There's a lot of gunfire. I can hear it. I have no idea who is shooting whom, but somebody is shooting somebody else. Which means that despite the gas, the people fighting are still perfectly capable of fighting. I'm not surprised Wingspan's people, having launched the fucking thing, have gas masks. I'm just assuming this next part though, but my best guess would be the PRT also had gas masks. So the fight continues.

3\. I'm no humanitarian, but I did check on the other people in my apartment complex. According to the radio and news (which you guys probably saw too), the paralytic shouldn't have any long-term effects. I can at least verify that the paralytic is **real.** There are people in my complex who have heartbeats, but are not moving. Yes, I called 9-1-1. And no, nobody picked up.

I'll update as I learn more. If anybody has any _actual information,_ please share it.

EDIT 1: I assume you guys saw the news broadcast with Legend and Wingspan sitting side-by-side. Link. I also got a reverse 9-1-1 call explaining the effects of the paralytic. It said according to Panacea, nausea and vomiting might be side effects after the fact. Unless you experience other symptoms, have an injury caused by becoming paralyzed, or have a preexisting heart condition, they urged us to hold off on seeking medical attention. That makes sense, I can only imagine how many people the medics are going to have to deal with.

EDIT 2: People in my complex are starting to (wake up?). I don't really know the term. I guess the paralytic is wearing off. It's been around four PRT seems to be trying very hard to tell everyone that the fighting has stopped and everything is fine.

Except the sky is still red and there's bodies in the streets. Not quite sure everything is _fine._

 **(Showing page 112 of 112)**

► Saunders19

 _Replied at 9:20PM:_

Seriously doc, how can you possibly think this was an acceptable outcome? EvenIF we accept that the heroes weren't able to win the fight over Brockton Bay, and even IF we accept that this course of action saved lives, think of the precedent that was just set. If you're a strong enough villain, the PRT will just roll over? Surely you can see the problem with that.

► DocUno

 _Replied at 9:23PM:_

So? What was the alternative? Let Wingspan take over Brockton Bay fully and completely? The precedent set by THAT would be far worse than any precedent set by what actually happened.

► Valvice

 _Replied at 9:27PM:_

Wingspan seemed completely out of it on the television broadcast. Did anyone else notice that? Compared to her Legend seemed perfectly fine, why didn't he just turn around and laser-blast her?

► NineBallers99

 _Replied at 9:28PM:_

Valvice

I assume that he tried that during the fighting and it didn't work. Wingspan was supposed to have regen, so maybe it's really really really fast regen? Something like what Lung has.

And it's probably natural she was tired, given what she was doing up until then.

► Valvice

 _Replied at 9:30PM:_

If she was tired, why didn't they just wear her down until she couldn't resist any longer?

► DocUno

 _Replied at 9:32PM:_

Valvice, Nine

You should probably check this link out as an answer to your question. To paraphrase the release (They're kind of difficult to decypher):

Sixty-two heroes were deployed to Brockton Bay. Twelve of them are "confirmed deceased," which I think means they have the body. Thirty-one are (still) missing, now three hours after the paralytic has worn off. Count that on your fingers. Nineteen heroes out of sixty-two came back today.

For reference, they give Endbringer fights three-in-four odds for survival.

► Valvice

 _Replied at 9:32PM:_

Jesus Christ. How did that even happen?

► DocUno

 _Replied at 9:33PM:_

That's the question of the hour.

► Transistor (Verified Cape) (Ward)

 _Replied at 9:35PM:_

Has no one seriously done the math on this one? Why do you think the paralytic was released in the first place? Fifty heroes + paralytic = sitting ducks

And naturally, sitting ducks + master ability...

EDIT: Just noticed the Ward badge is still there. Someone get rid of that.

► Saunders19

 _Replied at 9:35PM:_

Transistor, care to shed any more light other than that? Also, how long have you been all... evil-y?

► MikeRir

 _Replied at 9:36PM:_

Saunders, did you not read any of the posts about her arrest? Excessive force, murdering Tattletale, etc. Were these not signs she might not be a nice person?

► Transistor (Verified Cape) (Ward)

 _Replied at 9:39PM:_

I can verify that the numbers make sense. There were at least seven hero deaths I'm personally aware of, and the final number we got was twenty-eight _mastered_ heroes. I don't know what happened to those other three missing heroes. Probably caught in one of those time blasts from the tank. Or maybe they just ran.

As for the whole ceasefire thing in the first place, that was Vista's work. I really hope there's an audio file of what she said somewhere. And it doesn't really matter what the right call was, the reason it _happened_ was that neither side wanted to fight anymore. I'll admit the heroes were shutting us down pretty hard, but at a major cost of life on their part.

Neither side could really demand surrender, but we had to stop so... yeah. But like I said, if it wasn't for Vista it probably wouldn't have happened. We would have fought until the world ended.

► Valvice

 _Replied at 9:41PM:_

When you say "personally aware of..."

► MikeRir

 _Replied at 9:41PM:_

Transistor

Okay, this is what I don't get. Villain on Hero fights have always been nonlethal. That's the truce. You beat them back until they retreat so that when the real threats come, ie ENDBRINGERS, we actually have a fighting chance. But you don't kill each other.

Do you not understand that, or what?

► Transistor (Verified Cape) (Ward)

 _Replied at 9:41PM:_

Panacea.

► MikeRir

 _Replied at 9:42PM:_

The fuck does that mean?

► Nextgen_N

 _Replied at 9:44PM:_

I know what it means.

Most cape fights are on the order of minutes, but this one was lasting hours. Imagine what Panacea being on-site would mean for Wingspan. Even if they took down a hero, the hero would be recovered, brought to Panacea, healed up, and be put back on the battlefield. I explained this several times. A sufficiently motivated enemy in a long-term fight would then have no choice but to kill.

Despite her name, Panacea is not some magic hero you can just send somewhere to make there be less casualties. In this case it had the opposite effect.

► Transistor (Verified Cape) (Ward)

 _Replied at 9:44PM:_

Gold star for you, Nextgen.

I'll give you all a piece of advice. If you want to accomplish something, figure out what needs to be done. Not what you are capable of, not what you could reasonably do, not even what you're willing to do. It's not about you at all. It's about what must happen for that goal to be accomplished.

And then, if it's really what you want, you do it. There's no consolation prize, no points for trying. Don't try. _Do._

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **, …** **110** **,** **111** **, 112**

* * *

 **Topic: PRT-Wingspan Truce**

 **In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**

 _Space Zombie (Original Poster)_

 _Posted at 6:01PM:_

In case anyone didn't hear, Legend and Wingspan gave a speech: Link.

Yes, Legend and Wingspan. Together. Sitting next to each other behind a desk. Legend did most of the talking. Wingspan says something near the end so you should watch the whole thing. It's barely a minute.

I have no doubt the speculation train is about to run wild, so let's hear it. Tell me how terrible this is, or how it lines up with your PRT-in-cahoots-with-Endbringer theory, or whatever tinfoil hat nonsense you've decided to come up with.

Personally, I think both sides just had enough and decided to fuck it and move on.

 **(Showing page 19 of 19)**

► Roger1969

 _Replied at 6:05PM:_

Dre_master

I don't even. How would Legend even _fit_ that in his costume?

► Dre_master

 _Replied at 6:05PM:_

Roger1969

I've drawn a diagram: Link

► Extreme_Distractor

 _Replied at 6:06PM:_

What the serious fuck, Dre. What. The. Fuck.

► Yunto

 _Replied at 6:07PM:_

Okay, ignoring the past few posts, let me ask a serious question. This bargain didn't just involve the Protectorate and Wingspan, but the PRT as well. I looked it up though, and according to somebody at the PRT the Deputy Chief was the one who signed the paperwork.

Shouldn't Costa-Brown have signed an important agreement like that?

► Roger1969

 _Replied at 6:08PM:_

Yunto

I imagine that things were happening too fast and she wasn't reachable.

Dre_Master

Okay, to my... disgust, I actually studied your diagram. I guess it's _possible,_ but that leads to the much more important discussion of WHY?

► Extreme_Distractor

 _Replied at 6:09PM:_

Maybe it's possible, but wouldn't it break when he was flying? Or running? Or... I don't know, moving in the slightest?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **, …** **17** **,** **18** **, 19**

* * *

 **Topic: Red Sky Megathread**

 **In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**

 _Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)_

 _Posted at 2:15PM:_

 **NOTICE: THERE IS NO WHITE PHOSPHORUS THREAT TO BROCKTON BAY**

For those people living in Brockton Bay, it's pretty hard to miss that _the sky has turned red._ More specifically, there's thick, red clouds covering the entire city. There's a venerable slide show of images already, someone on SuperImage is collecting them here. Nobody knows yet what it is or who did it.

Update 1: There's now fighting in the streets. PRT agents are swarming and people in the city are reporting tanks and jeeps and the like that seem to be under Wingspan's control. Some sort of massive play for the city by Wingspan? I know people here have suggested she might try to do something like that, given her rapid territory increases recently.

Update 2: Seems every villain is in the fray now. It seems impossible to keep track of who's on who's side. In actuality I'm guessing everyone is on their _own_ side. The other villain groups are probably protecting their territory, the heroes are just doing what they do to try to stop it all, and Wingspan is the primary aggressor.

Update 3: There's apparently a white phosphorous bomb on Martin Luther King blvd, between second and main. People are saying the PRT _was_ handling it, but left suddenly. I'm pretty sure everyone in the area should still evacuate though. UPDATE: TURNS OUT THIS WAS A HOAX.

Update 4: Alexandria is down. Caught in a time-stop bubble. Proof. Someone said they saw Transistor nearby. Apparently she switched sides? Or was on Wingspan's side all along.

Update 5: The Protectorate finally called in a massive response. Is this now a class S threat?

 **(Showing page 101 of 413)**

► Phillips_18

 _Replied at 12:45PM:_

Jamestown1

No, not really. I don't think that was the point of his comment.

► MikeRir

 _Replied at 12:48PM:_

Jamestown1

I thought his point was valid. The only real way to stop Alexandria would be to do something like this. You can't just stab her. You can't even out-think her. I know there's threads upon threads of speculation about possible weaknesses of Alexandria, but if you were in Wingspan's shoes this makes sense.

There's one thing you _know_ that will work, right now, and that's stopping time around Alexandria. The only other thing to do would be to starve, dehydrate or suffocate her, and _we're not even sure those would work._

► Extreme_Distractor _  
Replied at 12:50PM:_

So did Wingspan's team just win?

► DocUno  
 _Replied at 12:51PM:  
_

Too early to call that one Distractor. It definitely gives some rep to Wingspan, but they'll just call in a bigger hero force. Watch.

EDIT: Called it.

► Yunto _  
Replied at 12:51PM:_

Mike

I wrote a pretty extensive post awhile back about Alexandria. Today it's just occurred that some of what I said could have been used to plan an attack like this on her. I even brought up powers like Clockblocker's.

► _Extreme_Distractor  
Replied at 12:53PM:_

I don't know, I have a feeling Wingspan might actually win today.

► Lucy_Looloo _  
Replied at 12:55PM:_

AlexiaAlex

Bet you're feeling pretty crap right about now about your favorite hero, right?

► MikeRir

 _Replied at 12:56PM:_

Yunto

I wouldn't worry about any personal responsibility. Even if Wingspan read your post (or someone in her crew did), the moral blame is entirely on them for actually doing it. It's more likely that she came to the same conclusion herself that you did.

► AlexiaAlex _  
Replied at 12:58PM:_

Lucy_Looloo

Well fuck you. Seriously though, I'm with Distractor on this one. What's Eidolon or Legend going to do that Alexandria couldn't?

► Lucy_Looloo _  
Replied at 12:59PM:_

How does "learn from her mistake and not get caught in a time bubble" sound?

► Whitecollar (Cape Wife) _  
Replied at 1:04PM:_

FYI everyone, there's probably going to be a big response to this. I mean, I guess that's nothing new (Apparently as soon as the Protectorate realized what was happening, some sort of notice was distributed). My hubby texted me though and said he's probably going there soon.

► Extra_Xs _  
Replied at 1:04PM:_

Whitecollar

Thanks for that. I'm sure we all expect it. Maybe this will finally be put to bed soon (it's been going on for over an hour already, right?)

► Major_Thuum _  
Replied at 1:04PM:_

How can Alexandria be down?

► AlexiaAlex _  
Replied at 1:05PM:_

Tell me about it Major, this is the worst news ever. Has she _ever_ "been down" before?

The answer is NOOOOO.

► kittyball _  
Replied at 1:09PM:_

Serious analysis: Without Alexandria, there's going to be leadership confusion, so Wingspan might get a temporary advantage right now. If Whitecollar is right it won't last and Wingspan will be shut down within the hour, but the smart play for Wingspan would probably be to solidify her holdings right now and stop. She took half the city. Why push for more?

► AlexiaAlex _  
Replied at 1:11PM:_

kittyball

Because she's a greedy villainous bastard? Come on, she's done some heinous shit.

► kittyball _  
Replied at 1:12PM:_

I'm not debating that, Alexia, Wingspan needs to be put in the ground. (Do we know if there's a kill order out on her yet?) But she's not _stupid,_ which is probably how she took down Alexandria in the first place.

► Lucy_Looloo _  
Replied at 1:12PM:_

Maybe Wingspan just got lucky somehow.

► DocUno _  
Replied at 1:15PM:_

Lucy_Looloo

Suggesting that would only make Alexandria look even worse (A fluke took her down? Come on). Besides, what sort of luck would make that happen?

► Transistor (Verified Cape) (Ward) _  
Replied at 1:18PM:_

Heh. Luck?

The mobile app sucks for this site btw.

► DocUno _  
Replied at 1:18PM:_

kittyball

I don't know if you were serious, but I went and checked and there doesn't seem to be a kill order on her (yet).

► MikeRir _  
Replied at 1:20PM:_

Transistor

Well that wasn't fucking ominous. And yes, the mobile app _does_ suck. If you're on a phone (this advice is for everyone), the desktop version is actually smoother. You can go to preferencesdesktop site to turn it back on. If you're logged in the site should remember.

► Lucy_Looloo _  
Replied at 1:20PM:_

Transistor

What?

► AlexiaAlex _  
Replied at 1:21PM:_

What did Transie do to my precious Alexandria?

► DocUno _  
Replied at 1:21PM:_

Transistor

You gotta give us more than that.

 **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **, …,** **100** **, 101,** **102** **, …** **411** **,** **412** **,** **413**

* * *

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

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You are viewing:

• Private message with user **Yunto.**

[23:15:30] Transistor:Yunto, I saw your post. It's strange that it wasn't Director Costa-Brown who signed the paperwork, wasn't it?

[23:15:45] Yunto:You are not the person I was interested in discussing this with.

[23:16:02] Transistor: No one else seems to care though, do they? I was actually there, you know. The excuse they gave me was she was unavailable. As if that was somehow an excuse. She's the director of the PRT, she shouldn't not be available for a major event like what happened today.

[23:17:16] Yunto: Fine, I'll bite. Yes, it's suspicious. So what?

[23:17:25] Transistor: She has a habit of this.

[23:17:35] Transistor: I did some digging. Costa-Brown is surprisingly not available during many major threats.

[23:17:54] Transistor: Did you know that during every Endbringer attack, Costa-Brown hasn't addressed the country even once? It is always after the fact.

[23:18:12] Yunto: I imagine she's busy.

[23:18:20] Transistor: Her deputy isn't though, he usually makes the news announcement there's an Endbringer attack. Why is it always the deputy, never the chief?

[23:18:30] Yunto: Can you just say what you think your theory is already?

[23:18:45] Transistor: It holds more weight if you come to the same conclusion I did without me expressly telling you.

[23:18:50] Transistor: I'll ask you a question instead.

[23:19:35] Transistor: Where do you think Costa-Brown was, and what was she doing, that made her unavailable to be part of an incredibly important discussion that could have global repercussions for her organization?

[23:19:52] Transistor: I want an actual answer, it's not rhetorical.

[23:20:01] Yunto: I don't know. Maybe she's sick?

[23:20:21] Transistor: Could be. Hiding a certain condition from the public so they don't know she's unfit for duty. That's actually along the lines I was thinking. Sort of.

[23:20:30] Yunto: Then why all the Endbringer stuff?

[23:20:40] Transistor: If it was just an illness, it's a little inconvenient that it needed to be treated or got worse or whatever right at the same time as all this stuff went down in the bay.

[23:20:45] Transistor: Funny, right?

[23:35:03] Yunto: Transistor, I just figured out what you meant.

[23:35:22] Yunto: That's a scandal that can't get out.

[23:35:28] Yunto: I don't know what you are thinking, but please.

[23:35:33] Yunto: We can't afford that being known. If it's even true.


	30. Red Sky 3-6

**Red Sky 3.6**

Sleep. All I wanted to do was sleep, but no one would let me.

"Wake up," said Shamrock with a harsh shove. It didn't hurt but it sure woke me.

I grumbled. The room was dark, but I could see perfectly. _Must still be night._ There were ripped curtains barely covering the window and not much furniture to speak of other than the bed. We had moved locations from the apartment complex to one of the warehouses near the docks. "Mngfg. What time... what time is it..." I asked Shamrock.

"Three-thirty. Come on, your bet is about to pay off."

"What..?" I forced myself up. Three-thirty means...five hours of sleep? Better than nothing. I hung my legs over the side of the bed and looked at Emma, who was still asleep. Shamrock didn't attempt to wake her.

I thought I was the master, shouldn't I be getting the beauty sleep?

Shamrock grabbed my arm and dragged me off the bed. "You're slow, hurry up."

I almost tripped over myself as Shamrock pulled me out of my room. The warehouse was one of many that were abandoned in the docks. I think it used to be under Merchant control before they went under. It would have been nice to say Leviathan had caused it to be abandoned, but it was abandoned long before then.

There were a few rooms we converted into makeshift living quarters. Shamrock led me to the one on the end and opened the door. The whole crew was cramped inside.

Emily was sitting upright on the bed, Elle and Faultline hugging her. There was a smile on all of their faces and a huge wash of relief fell over me. Emily looked at me standing in the open doorway. My lip was quivering. Things might _actually_ turn out alright.

I could see her start to speak. The catch was about to hit:

"Hi Taylor," she said happily.

"Wh...what?"

That—that can't—

Shamrock gave me another shove towards the bed and I stumbled towards them. _Did Emily just call me Taylor?_ That couldn't possibly have happened. My luck couldn't be that good. There's no way that everything would magically work out like that.

Emily reached towards me and grabbed my arm. "Come on, smile a little." I let her pull me into a hug.

Things don't work out that nicely. Nothing works out like that. Not... not for me. I buried my face into Emily and wrapped my arms around her. It's probably a dream. I'm going to wake up and none of this will be real.

I held Emily tighter. If it's a dream I'll enjoy it while it lasts until Shamrock wakes me up for real.

She gave me a few pats on the head. "Come on now, it's okay." I shuffled back on the bed to give her a little space, but Elle was having none of it. She resting her head on Emily's shoulder.

"How is this possible?" I asked.

The only thing different about Emily was that she died before I bit her. Could that really have somehow negated the master effect? It didn't make any logical sense, but it's the only thing that changed I could think of.

"Looks like everything worked out in the end," Shamrock offered. Emily smiled at all the attention she was getting.

"So, uh, I guess we won?" She asked.

"Yes and no," said Faultline. "Ceasefire. We didn't lose, but we didn't get what we were after either. Long story short: after you died Taylor went on a rampage, heroes called in reinforcements, Madison started murdering people beyond anything we thought she was capable of, Vista said we were all idiots in flowery language and then we negotiated the ceasefire."

"Aww, a rampage just for me?" Emily smiled and showed her teeth. It looked genuine, but at the corners of her mouth I saw fangs. "You shouldn't have."

There were three knocks on the wall. _"Can you keep it the fuck down over there?"_ Came the muffled voice of Madison from the other room. _"I was having a really good dream."_

"Oh, right." Faultline added. "We decided to let Madison in the loop. Vista is in there as well, though she seems less than comfortable throwing her lot in with a bunch of villains like us."

"We ain't mercs anymore I take it," Emily said.

" _Yes you are,"_ replied Madison. Through the wall. _"Can you at least talk softer?"_

I didn't understand her response. After today we were definitely one hundred percent villains, forwarding our own goals for our own reasons. We weren't hired by someone for a job like mercenaries would be. I looked at Faultline.

"Right, you were pretty out of it yesterday." She turned towards Emily. "Another thing you missed Emily. Elle totally went batshit on Taylor after finding out you died. She could barely walk for hours."

Emily's smile vanished as she turned towards Elle. "What? What did she do?"

"It's nothing," I said quickly.

"It's really not," said Faultline. She was intent on telling Emily this. "Elle threw her into a rainstorm with her ability. Turns out our little Elle is probably one of the few people capable of killing Taylor."

"Yes, her and a firetruck are my worst enemies." I said with as much sarcasm as I could push.

Emily pushed Elle away. "Elle, you can't do that to ma—" She bit her tongue before she could finish. After a pause, she looked back at all of us. We stared at her. "...many times?" she offered meekly.

Damn. I wanted to believe in the fantasy.

"Fuck me, I'm sorry." Emily said. "I can't believe I already slipped up."

"You're mastered," I said. "You were about to call me your master."

She nodded and the temperature of the room fell ten degrees. "I knew as soon as I woke up. There was an overwhelming amount of respect and admiration... and love, and since I knew who you were and what you were capable of it was obvious what happened. But I knew you would hate it if I was really your thrall. Guess I couldn't hide it."

Faultline nodded to herself. "Well, this is what we expected. The problem is what it means for our team."

Madison rather loudly cleared her throat. I turned to see her in the doorway. She was in nothing but an undershirt and her wheelchair. "It means nothing," she said.

"Of all the things it means, nothing isn't one of them."

But Madison only rolled her eyes. " _Operationally_ there's no downside to Spitfire being _more_ loyal. The only issue _you're_ having is that instead of being loyal to you, she's loyal to Taylor now, which frankly is kind of selfish of you to think is a problem. As for your team, in case you haven't noticed there is no longer any Faultline's Crew." She groaned. "I didn't want to have to discuss this now of all times, but I guess we'd better. Who needs sleep, right?"

Emily dutifully raised her hand. "Umm, you said through the wall we were still mercenaries."

"Yeah. I was having fun keeping Taylor out of the loop on her own team, but..." Madison looked at me with a smile. "If we're going to start negotiating with the PRT we can't be some weird pseudo-alliance. We need a united front. A single entity with a name and a mission statement."

It didn't take long for me to process the words. "A private parahuman contractor," I said. "Like New Wave."

"Exactly. Provisionally we were going to go with an unassuming name like Hebert-Fitts. Or Hebert-Fitts-Clements if you feel inclined to include me. I pulled New Wave's contract off the net. During tomorrow's talks the goal is to strike a similar deal. Or pave the way to that at least."

"It's our best play right now," Faultline added. "If the talks go well it's the only way we can continue operating."

"And to ensure the talks go well," Madison continued, "we need to prep. We're meeting the PRT in however many hours eight AM is from now."

"Four."

"That. We don't need that long but we're all awake now so I guess we may as well."

The room we were in wasn't big enough to have a long discussion so we moved down to one of the tables on the warehouse floor. It was nearly empty, only a handful of the vehicles that used to be here having made it back safely. Most of the technicals were taken out as well as a few tanks. The digger was here though, parked in a corner collecting dust.

Gregor brewed coffee and tea while the rest of us hunted down chairs. We were all at different heights and sitting on different things around an old, beat-up table. It felt inappropriate for the importance of what we were discussing.

I wondered if _most_ important discussions were around tables like this.

"The heroes," said Madison, "are going to realistically go after two things. First they're going to want their own back." She looked at me. "The ones you mastered, I mean."

"Then they're shit out of luck. I can't undo it."

Madison waved her hand back and fourth. "Yes, yes, but they're going to want them back anyways. Running with the contractor idea, we could abide by this demand in the following way: instead of your thralls working for the Protectorate, they work for _us_ and weare _contracting them out_ to the heroes. It's what they want, but it solidifies the fact that _we_ own them. We should try to negotiate towards this. They'll push for as little affiliation as possible but we can easily leverage your master hold on them."

"And the second thing?" Faultline asked.

"They're going to definitely want Taylor to stop mastering people. We're not accepting that, but I imagine our ideal is agreeing to some sort of controlled situation in which Taylor can use her ability. Whether a quota or situational guidelines."

Faultline and the rest of the original crew glanced at each other. I met Faultline's eyes and frowned, an expression Madison immediately picked up on.

"What is it?" She asked.

"We're not going to be able to agree on any sort of quota," I said.

Madison scowled. "This isn't something worth standing our ground for, Taylor. We need to give in to this demand."

"We can't," I insisted.

Before Madison could respond, Faultline held up her hand. "She means literally."

There wasn't any way of avoiding it. Madison looked at me expectantly. A lot of people knew this secret already, but I trusted them. I didn't trust Madison in the slightest, but the situation didn't allow for anything else. I had to say it.

"I have to exercise my master ability monthly," I said. "And so do all of my thralls."

I could see the color drain from Madison's face. By now I knew she was smart enough to immediately realize the implication. This may have been the first time I earnestly terrified her. Even when I broke into her house and intentionally tried to scare her she didn't lose her cool. "Do you know what you just said?" She asked.

"Yes."

She put her hand to her mouth. "...fuck," she said softly. Then she repeated the curse a few times. "That changes everything. Literally everything." Madison stared up at me. We were across the table from one another, but her eyes pierced me. "You're not insane. You must have tried to stop it. Or cure it, or something."

Madison crossed her arms and the table was silent. Everything depended on how Madison analyzed the situation.

"Of course you tried to fix it. There's no way you would master people if you didn't have to. But to do something like that..." Madison stared at the bit of table in front of her. "We'd need someone like Panacea, right? Someone who could manipulate the human body. But given our villainous position we can't exactly call her up and ask. And even if we could, you couldn't _trust_ her."

Her eyes lit up. "Ah," Madison said. "But that doesn't matter, you could _master_ her. So we would have to snatch her. I mean, all we'd need to do is get a thrall close to her. Probably easier said than done though. She's _Panacea_. She moves around a lot because of her ability. Doesn't she have some sort of teleporter cape help her move all around the world? We couldn't play catch-up, so we'd have to sit and wait for her at her house or something."

I was going to say something, but Faultline looked at me and quickly shook her head. I didn't get why she shut me up. What Madison was describing right now was—

"Bah, that wouldn't work, we aren't the first people who had the idea of grabbing the famous Panacea. She's probably well-guarded and her house has a bunch of superheroes living there. We'd need to know where she was beforehand and have our people in place for an ambush. For that reason I'm sure her schedule is classified, so we would have to take advantage of some natural situation. Like an Endbringer or something, somewhere she _had_ to be." She frowned. "I don't really want to mess with Endbringers though. It'd probably be better to... to..." Her eyes widened.

"There it is," said Faultline with a smirk.

"No way," Madison said. She leaned forward in her wheelchair. "You—all of yesterday, everything that happened—it was to lure Panacea here? You had to ambush her so you created a situation she _had_ to respond to. Something huge and massive and deadly that required all hands on deck. And then you were going to grab her in the chaos or—fuck, or _assume she was on the ground and the paralytic would get her_ , right?"

"We couldn't nail down her exact location." Faultline offered.

"To do something that massive though require months of gathering resources. Which... which you had... you were always preparing for yesterday. Securing a position that would let you... oh my god." Madison held her arm. "You planned everything. Even attacking _me,_ to give the PRT the impression you were hyper-aggressive. Slowly taking over territory to give the illusion you wanted the city. All for Panacea."

I was in as much shock as she was. I can't believe Madison figured that out. That took us weeks to plan, long nights and endless hours figuring out the best way to get Panacea on our side. Maybe Madison benefited from knowing what we had done already, but to figure it out like that was scary.

Madison was scary.

"Didn't work though," she said almost inaudibly. "You didn't get Panacea."

"No, we didn't." I said. "We got everyone _but_. And now we're up the creek."

The conversation died. No one knew how to respond. I hadn't had time to think of how we failed in the chaos, but that was the truth of it. We _had_ failed, even if it didn't look like that on the outside.

"It would be a really tough fucking sell," Madison said. "To get Panacea mastered in negotiations? They would never go for it and neither would Panacea herself. We'd have to try something forceful again. Except if we actually negotiate _anything_ tomorrow, all if it will fall through the instant we go after Panacea."

Yup. Like I said, we're up the creek.

Vista raised her hand in the air. I'd almost forgotten she was here. Apparently so did the rest of the people talking, so when she raised her hand there was a stumble. "Uh, yes?" I asked.

"You could just trust her," she offered.

"Trust her?"

"Yeah." Vista put her hand down. "You know, trust? She's Panacea. She saves people. Instead of assuming she's going to do something to you if you let her touch you, maybe you could just trust her and ask her to help."

"Thanks, Vista." Madison offered. "We'll call that plan 'maybe.'"

Vista frowned at Madison's sarcastic response. If _that_ was actually a viable option we would have done it. But the truth of the matter was more grim than the flower and puppy land that Vista seemed to believe the world was. All one had to do was put themselves in Panacea's shoes.

You have the power to alter the human body at a touch. So if you manage to lay your hands on the greatest supervillain in Brockton Bay, what do you do? You knock them unconscious and call the heroes to cart them off to the Birdcage. Simple, clean, easy. And that's the _best_ case.

Madison tapped her finger on the table. "This doesn't have an easy solution. But instead of trying to fix a problem you've been thinking about for months in the next four hours, we should think about how to deal with the demand if the heroes bring it up tomorrow. Can we at least promise not to master anybody in the next week?"

I nodded. Since everyone had already fed today, we had a solid month before anything had to happen.

"Then we'll have to push it to a later negotiation. We'll focus on introducing ourselves as HF or HFC or whatever we decide on and lay the groundwork for how future negotiations will go. Agreed?"

There were no complaints, but nothing was solved. Madison was only notified of a problem we all already knew.

There was a lot to cover about tomorrow's negotiation. Not enough to fill the four hours until the actual talks, but enough to be exhausting. And that was on top of none of us getting an adequate night's sleep. Though I doubt the heroes are getting much sleep either. We unloaded taking care of the city on them.

I would have been happy to help but our presence would have only been detrimental.

"Can you tell me what the deal is with Parian?" Vista asked at some point.

"When we initially carved out our territory from the docks to Captain's Hill," Faultline explained, "it put Parian above us and the rest of the villains south of us. So we didn't have to defend two fronts we told her we'd be hands off if she didn't tolerate anybody making moves in her territory. Or attacking us, of course."

"I still want to agree to that by the way." I added.

"It would be best if we could bring her in," said Madison. "Think she's awake?"

I shook my head. "She was a rogue before. I think all she actually wants to do is run her clothing business."

"We could give her that. I want her to make us uniforms. How much money do we have?"

"Enough," Shamrock said. First word at the table. I never asked _where_ Shamrock got her income from, but she was capable of getting however much money we needed. Though most of the vehicles in our arsenal were trucks and cars abandoned after Leviathan. Squealer could make them move but they weren't pretty.

Madison went on to say that as important as our words would be at this meeting, what we were wearing and the car we arrived in would be almost as, if not just as, important. And considering all of us here were in rags or underwear I was forced to agree with her.

I got Squealer on the phone to fix up the Range Rover Shamrock crashed into the laundromat before leaving the table to go find Parian. I didn't think she would help but it was worth asking. She usually held up in a house around the far end of the train yard.

The train yard, in my mind, was the Russia of Brockton Bay. In terms of topography at least. A large swath of territory to hold but a majority of it had no actual value. It was just a tundra. Maybe if trains were actually running it would be different. In the same way that if the ships were running the docks would be more valuable. But it, like half of the city, was littered with abandoned buildings.

It was dark. Even with night vision I could tell how dark it was, and it was _dark._ Neither the moon nor the stars were visible through the red blanket of clouds that hung over the city. Bakuda said it would last two to three days depending on the weather.

Madison didn't say it but that was another thing the heroes would want removed from this city.

I landed in front of Parian's house. I politely rang the doorbell and then stood a few feet back. Someone other than her opened the door. An older man.

"I'm looking for Parian," I said.

He nodded and shut the door. A few minutes later came out. "No Taylor, it's fine. I didn't need to sleep."

I tried to smile. "That seems to be going around."

"I figured you would have something to tell me after seeing what you did today."

"I want to stress the terms of our original deal still hold. I won't go after you. But, well. Things are changing on my side. Without giving much away, we're... trying to go legit?"

Parian sighed. "As if that's even possible."

"On the off-chance that it is, it would be great if you could design logos and uniforms and things for us. We'd pay you of course."

She stood still for a moment. The bad thing about masks was that it was impossible to read the expressions on people's faces. Not that I was good at it. "I could do that," she said. "You'd need to give me specifics on the uniforms. It might take awhile. I have questions about style, utility, color scheme, things like that. And if you want me to design you a logo the same questions apply. Except I'll also need your organization's name. And I don't want to do it right now, here, at five-thirty in the morning."

I nodded. "We're going to call ourselves Hebert-Fitts." I paused. "Or maybe Hebert-Fitts-Clements. I'm not sure."

"Sounds professional," Parian noted. "I can work with that. HFC will be a stronger acronym, plus it's similar to PRT. Is that all you have to say?"

"I guess. Sweet dreams."

"Those are hard to come by in this city," Parian said closing her door. At least something went smoothly.

When I got back to the warehouse Bakuda and Skidmark had come back. For most of the day Bakuda had been in a time-stopped bubble. I was asleep when they were undone, but the situation was contained. The people inside—who were in the midst of combat—were quickly informed the combat was over and they should go home.

The villains like the Travelers who only sided with themselves had no reason to stand down, but they must have read the mood because nobody mentioned anything about combat breaking out again.

I sat back down at the table. The only noise was the sound of Squealer's hammer as she fixed up the Range Rover.

"What'd Parian say?" Madison asked.

"She said she'd do it. We can talk to her later today."

"Thank god, at least _something_ went smoothly."

"Uh, right." My thoughts exactly.

There wasn't much left to do except go over the planned talking points a few more times. Emily wasn't tired and Elle wanted to stay physically in contact with her, but the others decided to try to catch another hour of sleep if they could.

I didn't bother. There was no way I would be able to fall back asleep. Instead I sat there with Madison, Emily and Elle.

"Master," Emily said. I looked up, that simple phrase making me uneasy.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I just thought you should know I'm really happy right now." She put her arm around Elle. "I'm happy to be alive. Happy to be part of this. Happy to be with you. Whatever yesterday-Emily might have wanted before being shot, me right now is really happy. So please don't feel bad."

I looked at her, then back down in my lap. Back when I was in custody of the Nine Jack had said something along the lines of " _what does it matter what their past brain-state was?"_ If I could do something that would give someone purpose, meaning and happiness, shouldn't doing it be heroic? Those were the lines he used on me.

They were still convincing. In a cold, logical way, they were convincing. And in the way that a child doesn't realize his mother withholding candy is good for him, it could be in someone's best interests for me to master them even if they don't want it.

That last line, in my mind, sounded like a pathetic excuse to control people. But was that really what it was, or was it just in the phrasing?

The current state of affairs is not unique. A similar thing might have happened if Emily and I entered a sexual relationship. Not that I swung that way, but in the hypothetical it was possible. It wouldn't be _all that different._

There were a thousand and one rationalizations I could make.

"But they're just rationalizations," I said aloud. "Anything I think of that makes what happened okay is me trying to justify it after the fact."

"Bingo," Madison said. "Leave that to the politicians. The truth of the matter is, Taylor, that you fucked up. Accept it. Rationalization may make you feel better, but it helps no one." She looked towards Emily, who still had Elle hanging on her arm. "Plus, you mitigated the damage. Better this than her actually being dead."

Elle looked up at Emily, then over to me. She glared. "Emily is mine."

"Uh—"

"Now now, Elle." Emily said. "I have enough love for everybody."

It took a long time for the clock to tick until eight. The negotiations with the heroes would take place in some out-of-the-way office building. I don't know why it was chosen. I guess Somer's Rock wasn't clean enough for the PRT.

...or it might not have existed anymore. I hadn't been there in a long time.

It was me, Faultline and Madison who would sit on our side of the negotiating table. I'm not sure who the heroes would send. Probably Legend. The others I hadn't the slightest idea. Director Costa-Brown, I assume, representing the PRT. But other than that I didn't know enough names to speculate.

There were news vans parked outside the building.

"Damn, I should have prepared you for this," Madison said looking at them. We were driving into the parking lot in our SUV. We were all dressed in the best clothes we could find, but it wasn't that nice. Compared to the suits the opposition would be wearing we would look like a rag-tag team. Not the corporate powerhouse Madison wanted us to be.

"Alright," she continued. "Mini-lesson. Don't answer their questions, they're usually traps. Say this and this alone: We're hopeful that today's talks will be productive. _After_ the actual negotiations can we answer questions and actually say things." Madison stopped herself. "I meant just say the first sentence. Don't say the second thing I said."

"I got it. We're hopeful today's talks will be productive."

"Yes, that."

Indeed, as we stepped out of the SUV the press pestered us with questions. I parroted Madison's line and she followed up by explaining we'd have a statement to make after, as well as answering questions. I don't know why she wanted to say that line and not me.

The three of us quickly walked into the office building. There were other members of the team—HFC—standing by outside. The Protectorate had a few heroes standing by too as well as a handful of PRT agents in full uniform.

We were escorted into a small waiting room by an agent. There was a couch and a few chairs. I took the couch and spread out my wings while Madison and Faultline took the chairs. The tension pounded in my chest.

Eventually a guard came in and told us to follow. The negotiations had begun.


	31. Red Sky 3-7

**Red Sky 3.7**

The room was exactly as large as I expected. It looked to be a conference room for whatever business usually ran their business out of this building. There was even enough room to expand my wings, not that I was going to. Instead the three of us took our seats on one end of the long table.

As expected, Legend came in on the other side. He was accompanied by Velocity and someone in a suit. He was familiar.

"Director Calvert," Madison said as he took a seat opposite them.

Calvert smiled. "I cannot claim to be surprised you ended up where you did, Transistor."

There wasn't time to ponder on that before a fourth person entered the room. This person I recognized all too well. Faultline and Madison turned their heads.

"What is Panacea doing here?" Madison asked.

"We'll get to that." Calvert cleared his throat. "Is this everyone?"

Seven of us in the room with a few PRT guards milling around outside. The conference room had a glass separator from the rest of the building but no windows looking outside. If anything happened in here the PRT agents would know and hell would fall down on us.

Not that I planned on anything happening. Just had to make sure I knew what the options were.

"Yes," Madison said.

"Good. So first, introductions. I'm Director Thomas Calvert of the Brockton Bay PRT. Or what's left of it. We have Legend on behalf of the Protectorate as well as Velocity on behalf of the local heroes. And Panacea, who can be considered a representative of New Wave. "

"On our side we have Faultline and Taylor Hebert," Madison said while gesturing to each of us. "And me, Madison Clements. I suppose we should start this off by laying all the issues we have down on the table. Make make a list or something. But first I would like to ask why Chief Director Costa-Brown isn't here. Surely the chief director of the entire Parahuman Response Team should be present for this meeting?"

Madison said that with a bit too much coy than made me comfortable. Legend coughed. "Unfortunately the chief director will not be able to join us for reasons that are private."

"Is that so?" Madison said elongating the words. "You'd think she'd make _time_ for our little meeting. But I guess this will do."

Calvert chuckled. "That's quite a shot over our bow, dear. I hope you have some ammunition left for the actual battle." Calvert glanced to his colleagues. All three of them looked left out. "This isn't public yet, but I'll be taking over the position while Costa-Brown sorts out her... situation. And a list is a solid starting point. I have an idea of what you have issues with, but let's hear them anyways."

"Our main issue, to put it bluntly, is that we're criminals." Madison said. "The Protectorate and PRT wish to either put us in the Birdcage or kill us. I'm not clear how many of us have kill orders on us, but obviously we have problems they're there in the first place. Same with bounties."

"The second issue we have," continued Madison, "is that of our continued operation as a parahuman group. There needs to be some sort of agreement to the extent we can take action in the future. The nature of our situation prevents us from disbanding for reasons I shouldn't have to spell out." She turned towards Faultline and me. "Unless either of you two have anything to add, I think that's the extent of what concerns us."

Both of us shook our heads and the floor turned towards the heroes. Legend and Calvert gave each other a look before Calvert nodded. Velocity and Panacea seemed here for token reasons. Velocity was the senior member of the actual Brockton Bay Wards, and Panacea... I couldn't guess what her purpose was.

Was it to taunt me? Were they aware of my plan and brought Panacea to dangle in front of my face? She was mere feet from me. I could leap over this table and sink my teeth into her before anyone realized what happened.

But it wasn't possible. The consequences would be devastating.

"The PRT," Calvert said, "is fortunate enough to be able to fire its senior staff, replace a few key managerial positions and re-brand itself to throw off the negative publicity yesterday caused. The Protectorate, however, is not quite so fortunate. Our main concern is that yesterday's incident will shatter the faith and public confidence the Protectorate has tried for years to build and maintain. Without something for the Protectorate to have _won_ yesterday, we might see uncontrolled chaos all across the country as villains realize they have nearly free reign. Simply put, any surrender on the part of the Protectorate would have global repercussions."

Calvert was looking at Madison the whole time, but changed his perspective to stare at me. "Our next concern is over Taylor's master ability. According to Panacea," Calvert gave her a nod, "since she can't affect brains, she is unable to reverse it. The only parahuman we have in our records who _could_ is Bonesaw, and that's not feasible. Which gives us major concern about you using your ability in the future."

Well, we expected that.

"Issue number three on our end," Calvert continued, "is the size of your team. Considering yesterday's events I'm assuming you have shy of forty parahumans. This makes you one of the largest parahuman teams in America. The direction you take your team in is of major concern. We cannot allow something like this to happen again."

"Our fourth and final issue concerns a specific member of your team. I believe she goes by the name of Shamrock."

I cut a glance to Faultline, then back at Madison. Both were keeping their cool, but we did _not_ discuss Shamrock in any way. I knew she kept her secrets but we'd tied up her business in Las Vegas. _I swear if she got into more trouble somehow I'm going to wring her neck._

Calvert opened a folder and took out a photograph, sliding it over to our side of the table. The three of us huddled around it. It depicted Shamrock and Lung, as well as some other people I didn't notice. They were sitting around a table.

"This picture depicts your teammate and Lung of the ABB gambling. What they were gambling over was this." Calvert put another photo on the desk. It showed a close-up of the game with a flash drive sitting in the middle of the table. "This drive is a piece of tinker-tech stolen from someone who now works in the Toy Box. On it contains a piece of computer programming vital to our national security. We believe your teammate Shamrock intends to sell it. We want it back."

 _Fucking Shamrock. What the fuck is she doing with something vital to national security?_ What I really wanted to say was "yes, we'll give her a good beating and give you the drive," but naturally Madison would want to—

"Is there anything else?" Madison asked simply.

"That's about it," Calvert said.

"So we all know what we're having problems with. We should try to work up a solution then." Madison crossed her arms. "Might as well start with the last one. I assure you our motivations were purely in terms of profit and not in any malice towards the US government."

"Of course not," Calvert said. "But we'd like it back. Consider it a—"

"—show of good faith?" Madison finished. "I understand the concerns over the transfer, but it does put an economic burden on us. We might have to discuss it further before committing to anything."

"Would you now?" Calvert leaned back in his chair. "I would think someone trying to get into the heroes' good graces would relish the opportunity to help us out with something so black and white. No matter the, what did you call it? Economic burden?"

Madison frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly.

"We'll hand it back," I interrupted. "End of discussion, let's move on."

I wasn't blind. I realized Madison and Calvert were playing some sort of game levels beyond what I could tell. But I was _here_ andat some point I needed to draw the line and actually have things negotiated. Shamrock screwed up so we'd deal with that. I had no interest in holding something like that flash drive over the country's head.

We were here to _not_ be villains anymore.

"I want to discuss your ability," Calvert said.

"What about it?"

"We want you to stop it. I'm assuming you _don't_ want to stop it, so the middle ground naturally would be a quota. This will be a straightforward negotiation so it's a good starting place. If you're amenable to a quota all we have to decide upon is the number."

"I disagree," Madison said sharply. "The use of Taylor's ability is at the heart everthing. It's the most important issue and we're not going to give it a quick once-over and call it a day."

"Fine. But you need to give us a starting point. Are you saying you won't even agree to a quota? Of any number?"

Madison shook her head. "That's not what I'm saying. But there's thousands of questions that will pop up from something as basic as choosing what road to go down. I can think of several right now if we chose to decide on a quota. The major issue is one of oversight—how would you plan on enforcing this quota? Because I assume you won't take our word for it but any sort of thrall registration goes way over the line. Another is that of unforeseeable circumstance. What if a situation arises that requires us to break quota? We can't account for all of these situations as if they're written down in some lexicon." Madison put her hands on the table. "The truth of the matter is exactly what I've already said. It's too complicated to even decide a starting point right now."

Calvert leaned back in his chair and put his hand on his chin. He looked at Madison with a crooked gaze. Despite there being seven of us at the table only the two of them were talking. The rest of us were props.

How did Madison become so crucial to my survival?

"If you want this negotiation to get anywhere, you're going to have to show yourselves worthy of stepping back over the line," Calvert said. "You three are living deep in villain territory. If you want _anything_ discussed, you have to walk towards the light."

"We're _doing_ that, Calvert." Madison shot back. "But we're not going to run so fast we get blinded and killed before we can make it over the border. We understand this needs to be discussed, but the complexity of the issue requires more than half-a-night sleep to make any firm decisions about. We can at the very least promise not to master anyone while we work this out."

It was a firefight. Calvert would pop his head out from over the sandbags and fire a few rounds before ducking back. Then Madison would peek out behind a pillar and fire her own rifle. Their words were bullets and each hoped to wound the other.

Unfortunately this was not nearly as straightforward as a firefight. I had no idea if we were winning or losing. I didn't even know if we sustained damage or wounded the enemy.

I shouldn't think along those lines. This was a negotiation, not a fight. We're supposed to be working together.

"It concerns me," Calvert said, "that you're being so stubborn Madison. You must have known this was our top concern. You don't have _any_ plans to move forward on this?"

"I believe the line lawyers use at this point is 'asked and answered.'"

Legend cleared his throat and got ready to say something. I had wondered if any of the other actors at the table were going to move. I understood why Velocity and Panacea didn't speak and to some degree Faultline didn't have much to input either. It's clear Calvert and Madison were the talkers.

I wondered if this was part of the game Calvert and Madison played too.

"I want to ask you a question, Taylor." Legend said. "Do you really have no problem using your power to control other people like this? Because..." He paused and had trouble forming the sentence. "Well, it's not anyone's place to tell a parahuman not to use their powers, but at some point isn't it enough? How many people do you have to enslave?"

Madison wasn't going to intervene. The look on her face said she wanted to, but I saw what held her back. If she did it would only look worse for us. This question was mine to answer.

But this question felt like a trap. There was no right answer. If I said 'no, I have no problem and I'd enslave the whole world if I felt like it'—obviously they would despise us. There would be no chance of peace, just a forced concord of mutually assured destruction.

And yet if I answered yes, I _do_ feel bad, the follow up questions would lead to why I do it anyways. Which is a short road to the truth. A truth the PRT cannot ever, ever find out.

The third option: refusal to answer. Its effect would be tantamount to the first, only less clear. Maybe it would give room for doubt, but in reality they would take it as the first.

No good options. Was there a fourth, or a fifth?

"Taylor?" Legend asked. Damn, time's up.

"The truth," I said slowly, "is that... is that the people I've mastered—for the most part—I felt I had no choice. You have no reason to believe me, and I doubt you will, but you asked. The first person I ever mastered I didn't realize I was doing it. Squealer and Skidmark, they were pretty horrible people. Same with Bakuda. It's my power, I master people. It's... it's better than killing them, or at least I tell myself that. And the event yesterday." I couldn't manage to meet anyone's gaze, but I'm sure they all stared at me. "I didn't want that. I made the threat because I thought it would work. I told my people to go through with it because I didn't want to be someone who made empty threats."

"If that's the truth then why are you pushing to keep mastering people? If you actually think it's wrong, and you actually want to start to do good, why are you forcing this?"

I didn't answer immediately. Was I going down the right road here? It didn't feel like it, I felt like I was walking into some sort of trap. This wasn't Legend's specialty though, it was Alexandria's. Or so I'd heard. All we had here was Legend, Calvert, Velocity and—

—Panacea.

 _Fuck._ I'd hit this line of reasoning before, got confused, and gave it up because something else happened. But it _still didn't make sense._ Panacea was here, she was here yesterday, and she must have gotten her hands on Skidmark. She must have known I _had_ to master people. My body literally forced me.

That had to be why she was here. Because if my ability was the major subject of these negotiations, _Panacea was the authority on it._

It _was_ a trap. It was a trap that I didn't spring, but was sprung the moment these negotiations started. Panacea, who sat right there, knew the truth. She knew the truth about what I am and what I have to do and now Legend was pressing me on _why_ I mastered people. If I lied they would know it and the magnitude of my lie would kill any chance we had for leverage in this negotiation. The moral pillar we had to stand on would crumble into dust, and that pillar was pitifully small already.

Admitting the truth was the only other alternative. If I stayed silent they could have Panacea speak in my place. She could bring it up after taking my silence as an unwillingness to be truthful. _Do I fall into the pit or do I admit the truth?_

There—there wasn't anything I could do. It was the only option.

"I—" I took a deep breath and did my best to look Legend in the eyes. "I don't have a choice."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I am physically unable to go for a long period of time without using my master ability."

Legend spun to look at Panacea, then at Calvert, then back at me. _Sorry, did I throw a wrench into your plans?_ "This—" He coughed. "There is nothing that would suggest this is the case."

"Because she's _lying."_ Panacea shot up out of her chair. Daggers stabbed me through her eyes. "She's a fucking monster who just wants to enslave people. She doesn't _have_ to do anything, it's a bold-faced _lie."_

"Screw you," I shouted. "How dare you say that."

"Because I _know,_ Wingspan, I got my hands on one of the people you mastered. I know exactly what happened to them, exactly how you did it, and I know exactly how your ability works. You can't lie to me, Wingspan, I already know the truth. So stop it."

"Then you know I'm not lying." I slammed my hands on the table and one of the legs buckled. I didn't care. "If I don't master someone every month, I start to shake uncontrollably, get shivers, fatigue. I can't concentrate and my palms become sweaty. My throat feels constantly dry and the headaches keep me up at night. Why are you fucking telling me I don't know my own fucking body?"

Panacea opened her mouth, but instead of sounds coming out of it she put her hand over it. _What the hell is she thinking?_

"Taylor you complete idiot," Madison said quietly. I shot her a glance.

"You..." Panacea started. "You think that those symptoms are withdrawal from your master ability?"

The room was dead silent. "Um. Yes?" I said pitifully.

"They, uh." Panacea's eyes wavered. "You and your thralls have a blood dependence. You need around one-hundred fifty milliliters per day, otherwise withdrawal symptoms like you described set in."

What?

"It's not a lie," she said. "Or, at least that's what seems to be the case for the patient I looked over yesterday. Most mammalian blood is close enough in its biochemistry to suffice."

 _What?_

"We should take a recess," Madison said. "Ten minutes?"

"I think that would be best," Legend said.

Wait.

What?


	32. Red Sky 3-8

**Red Sky 3.8**

She had to be wrong. She just had to be. If I didn't master people I felt those symptoms and eventually I would lose control. I _had_ to master people, there was no other option.

 _Why did I believe that?_

There had to be a good reason, right? There's no way something so fundamental could have no basis. There was a great reason that Panacea was mistaken. Some sort of contradiction that simply being addicted to blood wouldn't be able to resolve.

 _But why couldn't I think of it?_

One-hundred fifty milliliters a day, that's what she said. Over thirty days that's a little more than a gallon. Probably about how much blood the human body has. The math worked out. Whenever I bit into someone and drained all their blood... it was the right amount.

I couldn't think of the reason.

It _had_ to be there, it just had to. Because if it wasn't that meant I did all of this based off some sort of... it wasn't even a misunderstanding. I don't know what it was. The world couldn't really be that fucked up. That someone like me did all this because I made a false assumption?

I buried my face in my hands.

"This can't be," I said aloud.

"You completely misread the situation," Madison responded. We were in a private office. "They had _no idea._ I guess for good reason seeing as it wasn't even an actual issue."

That is entirely not what I meant. Grand, important events were supposed to happen for grand, important reasons. I dragged Brockton Bay into hell because I was trying to _save the world._ From myself, but the reason was just. I was trying to save the world from myself and for that I would do what had to be done. For such a grand goal I had to do grand things.

But that wasn't the reason.

The reason I am responsible for countless deaths is not because the world was at stake. It's because _I made a wrong assumption._ That was it. For such a small, stupid reason I did things. I did terrible things.

"I should die," I said.

"You don't mean that," Faultline said. She put a hand on my shoulder and I looked up. "We fucked up bad. All of us did. The blame does not lie solely with you, Taylor. All of us were around that table months ago coming up with this plan. Not one of us questioned that the world was at stake."

"But still, it shouldn't be like this."

It just shouldn't. The world shouldn't be like this. I didn't get it. How was I not sure? There's nothing. There's _nothing_ that proved Panacea wrong. She was right. There was no reason for her to lie. And if she did Madison would have said something by now.

"I should turn myself in," I said.

"I believe you actually mean that one," Faultline said. "But you don't get to. It's not your decision anymore."

I was going to protest but kept my mouth shut. She was right. I'd dragged her and so many other people into this. Resigning myself to the Birdcage would leave them to the wolves. And I had so many thralls now and so many heroes who needed to stand up and fight. They wouldn't if their master was locked away.

We've gone too far. Even if was based off a fantasy we'd plunged too far to do anything else.

"Make it right, Taylor."

It wasn't Faultline, but Madison who said that. It wasn't a phrase I expected to come out of her mouth. Ever. For any reason.

"Maybe the public will never trust us. Maybe the heroes will never trust us. But if we can give birth to HFC we can have the autonomy to be heroes regardless of what people think of us. Even if the world despises you it doesn't matter. You can still be a hero. Be a hero and make up for what you've done."

I stared at the floor. There wasn't time to respond to Madison's comment before one of the PRT guards waved us back into the conference room. They replaced the table that I accidentally broke. We quickly took our seats in the same positions.

My mind wasn't anywhere near the negotiation. I still couldn't believe what Panacea had just told me. _I didn't have to master people anymore._ I couldn't help the negotiation right now. I wasn't in the acceptable headspace for talks like this.

"Wing—no, Taylor." Panacea said. "I wanted to talk with you before everyone started getting back into negotiation mode. Is that all right?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"It feels like ages ago, but when you were originally arrested I was asked to inspect you. You told me you didn't like me." Panacea fiddled with one of the ropes in her hood. "Is it true that for such a small and stupid reason, all of this really happened? If I hadn't been so off-putting we might have touched and none of this would have happened?"

"Sorry. I lied back then." I tried not to be as brutal as I was before. _Does she really feel guilty?_ I was the one at fault here. "I don't know you well enough to like you or not. At that time the PRT didn't know I was a master and I didn't want them to find out. I made up something stupid to make you leave."

"Oh. I'm a doctor though, technically. I signed all the oaths and legal papers. There's such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality."

I shrugged. "Admittedly I didn't think of that at the time, but it wouldn't have mattered. There wasn't a chance I was going to trust the PRT with anything after they arrested me so soon after Leviathan."

Wait, that reminds me.

"Speaking about that, why _did_ you guys arrest me so soon after Leviathan? There was supposed to be some sort of Endbringer truce. I was with my dad making sure he wasn't dead in the streets and the next morning I was carted off to jail."

" _That_ decision," interjected Calvert, "was on the part of ex-director Emily Piggot. I'd let you ask her why she made it but she's dead. Killed in an explosion along with the supervillains Coil and Circus. I'm not sure we'll ever know what her motivations were. Anyone who might have known was probably killed by Behemoth. Obviously it was a mistake on her part."

"It's pointless to try to push the blame," Madison said. "There's enough of it for all of us to take a slice of responsibility for what happened to our city. Any one of us could have changed it if we had known what was going to happen. But we didn't. I could have not shoved Taylor into a locker and caused her to trigger ten months ago. In which case _none_ of this would have happened."

 _Why did she bring that up? Torturing me with memories of the past?_ I wouldn't put it past her sadistic side, but she's probably thinking rationally right now. If she takes the blame I won't be as erratic. _Is that it?_

"Panacea, is there anything else you wanted to say?" Madison asked.

For a moment it didn't seem like she had anything in mind. But just before Madison looked ready to move on Panacea spoke. "Why didn't you ask me for help after the PRT knew about your master ability then?"

"Would you honestly have helped if I rang your house and asked?"

"You could have at least _tried,"_ Panacea exclaimed. "You could have tried to contact me, say something like you didn't want to master people anymore but you're in pain if you don't. Why didn't you at least ask?"

I frowned, not sure if I should answer. I looked at Faultline but she shrugged. "We couldn't trust you," I said.

"I don't understand."

"To put it frankly, if I was in your shoes I would knock me unconscious the second we came in contact and had a PRT team standing by to take me to the Birdcage before I ever woke up. There was already plenty of blood on my hands by that point."

Panacea looked horrified at that remark. "I would never do that," she exclaimed. "I heal people."

Madison nudged me in the rib before I could speak. "Panacea," she said. "There's no way you can make _positive_ changes to the human body but not _negative_ changes. With that potential threat all Taylor had to go on was your moral character which, as she already said, none of us had any idea about. With the exception of Endbringer attacks there is no record of you ever healing villains. Especially ones who 'just asked for it.'"

Madison was not part of those discussions and didn't even realize we were going after Panacea until a few hours ago. How was she able to talk as if she was an expert so easily? To have that kind of charisma must be intoxicating.

"Thats—that's just..." Panacea looked down.

"Sorry, it's not meant as a criticism." Madison added. "Not healing villains is probably the best strategy. There _is_ a moral precedence for saving the lives of innocents. It would be a twisted sort of strategy to give priority to bastards and murderers like us over nice, sweet people like Vista."

Panacea didn't say much more after that and Calvert and Madison quickly got the ball rolling again with the negotiations. I did my best, but I was still in a cloud. Everything I thought was true turned out to be false.

How is someone supposed to deal with that?

"So, as I was saying." Calvert grinned. "Quota?"

"Most of my criticisms are still valid."

I interrupted. "The details will be... detailed." Crap, I'm not as elegant as Madison. "But if Panacea is right and I have access to enough blood, I can agree to some sort of quota."

"Excellent."

Madison tapped her hand on the desk. "Like Taylor so eloquently put, the details are going to be detailed. Really detailed. This actually leads into your first and third issues though. The direction we plan on taking our team—or let's be serious, we have an army. In some sense however, nothing's changing at all. Faultline?"

Faultline looked over at Madison before clearing her throat and turning back to the heroes across from us. "Right, this is why I'm here. While admittedly we ran our own agenda for the past few months, before June we were mercs. We plan to continue that line of work. Officially. And if you want an exlusivity deal with us, well, that can be arranged."

Calvert nodded. "I see. We get to announce we have you under control, but you retain your long-term autonomy. Not to mention however much you'll make us pay you." It looked like Legend was going to open his mouth to protest, but Calvert held up his hand. "Yes, Legend, they'll be able to negotiate that way. However, Madison, I hoped you thought more highly of me."

Madison clicked her tongue. "Most people don't notice that."

And once again Madison and Calvert got into something way over my head. But the two of them looked like they were having fun. Though "fun" wasn't why we were here. There were literally lives on the line of this negotiation and the two of them looked like they were flirting.

"Care to fill the rest of us in?" Legend asked. _Thank_ you, I wasn't going to be the one to interrupt.

The cute couple beside us looked like we barged in on their special time. "Your boss is noting," said Madison, "that earlier I said the phrase 'actually this leads into your first and third issues.' Logically, however, it didn't. I was just changing the subject. Most people don't track things like that long enough to notice."

"I'm not most people." Calvert looked only at Madison. The rest of us were just props, even Faultline who was supposed to be speaking. "I wonder if you've ever had to deal with someone who can see what you're up to."

"Not since I got good at it. While I love to brag I can't help but notice we've gotten off topic. I believe we were talking about our mercenary company and how you were going to give us bags of cash."

 _I think I should stay out of this._ Whatever minor input I had would be washed away by these two. Legend seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Twenty-four hours ago Faultline and the rest of us prepared to release the red clouds over Brockton Bay and attempt to capture Panacea. The goal of that plan somehow got resolved, but not how we planned. When it came down to it, it was luck.

Weeks of effort and planning. An attack that cost lives. And it succeeded _somehow,_ even though nothing went as planned and nothing got accomplished in the way we planned on. It was more like we just threw the city into chaos, and in all that chaos things managed to bang around well enough to resolve themselves.

...for me.

What we put this city through hurt everyone else _but_ me. And maybe Madison by the expression on her face.

I'm a fucking villain, through and through.

"Sorry, Fitts?"

"That's me," Faultline said. "Melanie Fitts."

"That's quite a thing to give away," Legend said. "Your identity."

"I think we're beyond secret identities," Faultline responded. "You probably know this, but the whole system is falling apart. The days of trusting thinly-veiled secret identities are long gone."

"Yeah," Panacea said. "We've been saying that for awhile now."

Oh, right, New Wave was totally on top of that before _we_ had the thought. I wondered why I didn't realize that earlier.

The talks went on for a long time. Longer than I thought. I tried to pay attention best I could but half of the negotiation was Madison and Calvert bickering over something entirely meaningless while the significant things were given a couple of nods and moved on.

One thing that _didn't_ happen was complete and utter disaster. I tried to prepare myself for when it happened. I wasn't sure if it would be me, Madison, or one of the heroes. Would Legend decide to screw it all and laser me out of nowhere? Or would Madison take an opportunity to slit Calvert's throat?

Most of the talk I waited for that shoe to drop. For the rubber bands holding this ceasefire together to snap and the world to explode back into combat.

And yet it never came. We just talked. Or rather, Madison and Calvert just talked while the rest of us offered input every once in awhile.

It seemed to be working out all right.

"Well, it's been good speaking with you again Madison," Calvert said. They were finished.

"You too. When I was a Ward you were the only person I thought was actually competent. No offense _mister Velocity._ "

Velocity stiffened in response, but said nothing.

Calvert stood and the rest of us stood with him, Madison the only one staying seated. Because of her wheelchair. _Panacea is literally right there, should I say anything?_ The two of them could brush by each other on their way out the door and Madison would have her legs back.

As much as the bitch deserved the pain there was an argument to be made for utility. Though even with the chair she killed seven heroes or something, so maybe Madison unchained would be incredibly dangerous.

"Sorry," I said before everyone left. "I just couldn't help but notice that we have Panacea and Madison in a room together and no one even mentioned that... well, you know."

Calvert chuckled. "What happened to not trusting her?" He asked before leaving the room. He briskly walked away, leaving six of us still in the conference room. Legend and Faultline followed him out to conduct the transfer of Shamrock's flash drive.

"Is that really it?" Panacea asked. The four of us didn't make for the door. "You really don't trust me enough to heal you? You think I'm going to kill you if we touch? I've healed you before though, Madison. You trusted me then."

Madison shook her head. "That's not the reason. You're not wrong—the lack of trust is a big issue—but specifically today it was because we were negotiating. Asking you to heal me would have been something I asked for, in which case I would have to give something else up. The trade wasn't worth it."

"Oh. But how about now?" Panacea asked. "All that's over. So now it's just about the trust. All you have to do is trust me and you can walk again."

What I expected Madison to do was say no and stick with the chair. That's what her personality would dictate. But every time I've thought that I've been wrong, which meant Madison will say something like "sure, okay" and surprise all of us. Because that's what she did: whatever no one expected her to do.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when she hesitated.

"It's not easy for me," she said quietly. She didn't meet Panacea's gaze. "I've never been able to trust people. There's people I _understand,_ but that's different than trusting I guess." Madison glanced up at me before looking back down at her lap. "If you've been wondering why I can stand next to Taylor even though she spent months trying to master me, it's because I _understand_ her. I have a good idea what she wants. The type of person she is. That's... that's the sort of person that I am. Without knowledge and evidence, I can't trust in people.

"I don't really know you, Panacea. Are you really the universal cure, a beacon of hope and goodness in the world? I doubt it. The media may portray you that way but I'm sure you have your own personal demons. Though I can't speak to what those might be." Madison looked to Panacea and I followed her gaze. Panacea wasn't good at concealing her emotions. "Without understanding you, it's a gamble. Trusting you without knowing all the facts is a gamble on if you're a good person. But I'm not betting money or power or anything I can get back. It's my _life._ My _life,_ Panacea. Can you really blame me?"

Panacea narrowed her eyes. "Your actions aren't those of someone who values life very much."

The room went silent. I couldn't help but wonder if Madison was lying to Panacea or if she actually meant what she said.

"You might be right about that," Madison said. Her voice was a whisper. "But it haunts me. I remember the sound of Tattletale hitting the ground. She was one person, and after a month I still lose sleep over it. Now I've killed eight."

Her words hung.

"Are you really that good of a person to heal me?" She asked. "Are you sure you wouldn't be tempted to do something to me, even something small? I deserve it, after all. That's what you'd think. No one would know either. You could do something like give me delayed obesity or cancer or any number of things. And there wouldn't be a way to trace it back to you—after all, those things are natural and might happen naturally."

"That's—" Panacea started, but cut herself off. Madison was right about one thing. None of us knew who Panacea was. And our trust meters defaulted to the "no" position. But Panacea was hesitant. "Even if I healed you and did nothing else, it would give you an excuse to blame _any_ future problem on me. I can't make you immortal. You said those things are natural—well, if they happen you can't blame them on me."

"Is that the shield you hide behind when you let out your anger?" Madison asked.

Panacea's eyes widened. I felt bad for her. She probably didn't deserve what Madison was going to do to her if this conversation went on much longer. There wasn't much room—or reason—for me to intervene though. Whether Madison got Panacea to heal her was up to her.

On the other hand, if Panacea _did_ do the things Madison suggested there wasn't a way for me to know except to master her. That was the whole point of yesterday's incident. The only way to trust Panacea was to master her. But that option is now out the window.

"I'm not the bad guy here," Panacea said quietly. It didn't sound like _she_ believed it.

"Like I said, you shouldn't feel bad about it. The good people of the world have nothing to fear—they did nothing wrong and they know that, so you have no reason to hurt them. But those of us who are villains _do_ have something to fear. And so we don't get to be healed." Madison shrugged. "The system works."

While I hate to agree with Madison on principle, she was right. The entire morning's events could be described as us getting away with mass murder and a hundred other crimes. We're getting away scott-free and there's nothing the PRT or Protectorate or US government is going to do about it. _Justice_ hasn't been done, which meant people are going to want to carry it out themselves.

It doesn't matter that we're trying to move into a direction to help people. It doesn't matter if from this moment on the existence of HFC would save millions of lives. HFC could save the world and it wouldn't matter. Because we weren't punished for our crimes in the past.

We eluded justice. And nobody can stand for that.

Hell, _I_ wanted justice against the PRT. And against Madison, Emma and Sophia. And against all the other bastards who sought to hurt me.

"You're right," Panacea said. Her voice cracked. "I'm not a good person. I would have to fight the urge to do something to you if we touched. I could do anything I wanted and no one would be able to prove it."

Well that was it then. Clearly the logical move was to tell Panacea to move on. Which meant that Madison was going to—

—hold out her hand.

Yup, saw that one coming. Though I'm not sure _why._

"I'm ready for you to heal me now, if you're brave enough." Madison said. Her arm was outstretched across the table. It was weird and unnatural.

"I don't understand." Panacea said.

"I don't think my behavior is all that mysterious if you were actually listening to what I said." Madison put on a smile that didn't have that touch of cruelty she saved for _me._ "I understand if you don't want to heal me, of course. That's still an option. But the ball is in your court now. You have consent."

Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Panacea took a long time to make a move. She slowly reached out to grab Madison's hand, but it was trembling. As if _Panacea_ was the one walking into the den of a lion. _Shouldn't it be the other way around?_

Their hands clasped.

For such a dramatic thing there wasn't much fanfare. They simply held hands for a moment and then Panacea let go. Madison wheeled back her chair a few feet and pushed herself out of it. Her legs worked just fine. She hopped up and down a little bit to test them out.

"Thank you," Madison said. "I know that wasn't easy."

"Do you really... do you really understand me?" She asked. "That's what you said. That you don't trust people you don't understand."

"I see you're one of the bright ones." Madison walked over on her legs to the other side of the table and put her hand on Panacea's shoulder. She leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. I couldn't make it out but it must have been something juicy because Panacea's eyes went wide.

Madison smiled and trotted back over to our side of the table.

"W-Wait," Panacea said. "What do I do?"

Madison shrugged. "You think I would be here right now if I knew the answer to that?"


	33. Red Sky End

**Red Sky End**

"What did you say to her?" I asked. Panacea and Velocity had long since left, leaving Madison and me in the conference room.

Madison closed the door. "I said there's a demon inside her and she's afraid she can't hold it back for much longer. Poetic crap like that tends to work on people like her."

"So it was a bluff?"

"Yes and no. Saying something vague and meaningless like 'there's a demon inside you' lets people latch onto _any_ intrusive thought they might have. Honestly though it's not about what you say, it's the authority in which you say it."

I raised a brow. "So you let her heal you because—let me make sure I have this straight—you knew that if she actually did something bad to you, in her mind she would be letting this metaphorical demon loose? And she didn't want to let that happen."

"Something like that. She thought villainy was a slippery slope and I trusted her fear of stepping even a hair over the line. And before you ask, the reason I kept talking to her afterward was to gauge her reaction. Verification if she had kept to her convictions or had let that little demon loose."

Madison put a finger to her chin.

"I'm _pretty sure_ she didn't do anything malicious."

"Guess pretty sure is good enough when your legs are on the line?"

"Walking is important."

I sighed and made for the door, Madison following. The negotiations had wrapped up fifteen minutes ago but we were all still milling around the office building. Madison, as soon as she got a clear line of sight to where she wanted to go, didn't bother putting up the pretense of having to actually walk there. When she vanished Velocity and Panacea approached me.

"Can we talk?" Panacea asked.

"Sure. Look, I'm sorry if Madison—"

Panacea shook her head. "No, it's not that. I thought that there are a couple of things I should tell you about your ability. Just in case, well, you know."

I avoided her gaze. "Of course," I said quietly. While I didn't share my thoughts with the heroes, they must have realized the cause of all of this too. A simple, stupid, incomprehensible misunderstanding.

"Like I said, a small amount of blood every day will alleviate your symptoms," Panacea started. "You're also hyper-adaptive, meaning that your physical body and healing capabilities can actually change according to circumstance. I'm guessing this is why you're far more powerful than your slaves. It's nothing to worry about, but there's something—well, it's hard to say."

"I can take it," I said. Nothing could top what she's already said.

Panacea took a deep breath. "This hyper-adaptiveness makes you functionally immortal."

The words hung. I should have had more of a reaction, but I think somewhere in my mind I already knew that. I had survived so much that should kill me, it's absurd to think that my ability wouldn't also stop that pesky 'aging' thing humans do.

Hearing Panacea confirm it, on the other hand, did give me pause.

"If no one kills you, you'll never die. And neither will any of your slaves."

I nodded. "That's... good to know."

Panacea looked like she had more to say, but didn't spit it out. I waited patiently for her to gather the courage or resolve to do so. Velocity stood next to her in support, but it was apparently for naught. "Please don't do anything like this again," she said, and left.

I expected Velocity to follow her, but instead he stayed behind. "What is it?" I asked.

"There wasn't a chance to say this in there, but you asked why we arrested you so soon after Leviathan."

"Calvert said no one knew."

Velocity shook his head. "I don't know why he said that, _I_ was there. I was literally there when we detained you at your house. We did it because someone reported seeing you and the Undersiders attack the Merchants the previous night. It _was_ too soon for stuff like that. Which is why we arrested you and _tried_ to arrest the Undersiders. But they evaded us."

It took me a second to register what he had just said. "What?"

That— _fuck, I did do that._ The previous night I had literally sunk my fangs into Squealer's neck. I didn't know anyone saw me. But if they did and they reported it to the PRT that would mean...

...they were totally justified.

 _Wait._ "If that's true," I said, "why didn't I get charged for it?"

"The witness recanted their testimony about you the next day. What were we supposed to do? You were a criminal. We couldn't put you back on the street and say 'well we didn't mean it this time, we'll capture you later.' I think the witness named herself Tess. It was a fake name."

That's weird, but the weirdness wasn't what pressed on my mind. It was the guilt. I blamed the PRT for breaking the truce and purposefully targeting me. I thought they had tried to make an example out of me. "I should have realized this," I said. Not for Velocity's benefit, but my own. "I think for the past few months I may have been believing in things I only wanted to be true. Not what was actually true."

"You wanted to believe that the PRT made you into a monster."

I shook my head. "No, that's not it. It's more along the lines that so much horrible crap happened to me I started assuming whatever the worst that _could_ happen _would_ happen. And it turned out that wasn't happening at all."

Velocity didn't say anything, but his arms dropped to his side. "It would be nice if this all works out."

I agreed. "If you asked me a few months ago, I would insist that some sort of complication would arise. Something that shatters any chance of peace. Probably something out of nowhere like the Simurgh attacking us and making us enemies again. But today I'm going to try to be optimistic."

As I said that Faultline suddenly turned to look at me and waved me over. _Damn it Faultline, don't do this now of all times._

"Excuse me," I told Velocity and rushed over to Faultline. She met me halfway, leaving Shamrock and Legend to stand awkwardly next to each other. "What is it?"

She grabbed me on the shoulder and whispered into my ear. "That flash drive of Shamrock's contains data stolen from Cauldron."

My senses were put on hold. That flash drive we agreed to give back to the PRT contained Cauldron data. That's what Shamrock was doing. Not being a greedy piece of crap, but helping us dig up dirt on Cauldron.

I hadn't thought about them in over a month. It felt like an old-Taylor problem, a problem that I worried about before the Nine nabbed me. It wasn't important when the end the world was at stake—even though it actually wasn't.

But Cauldron. Those bastards made superpowers and possibly gave them to me. All those reasons and thoughts I forgot about came rushing back. I wasn't like other parahumans. Other parahumans triggered. Except case fifty-threes who had Cauldron tattoos and lost their memories. But I didn't fall into either case.

Or was that another wrong assumption? Did I trigger back in the locker? The infection that spread through my body may have just taken awhile to manifest itself. In retrospect, yesterday's incident with the black balls or bats or whatever they were highlighted the fact my ability had to _figure out what to do._ Maybe it took three months to figure out I needed wings and fangs.

It was really easy for me to believe _someone had done this to me._ Back in April the idea that this was forced on me made perfect sense. But maybe that was false.

I didn't even know if there _were_ monstrous parahumans that _weren't_ case fifty-threes. That—hell, I should probably look that one up. The internet could answer that for me.

"Taylor, uh, you have a response?" Faultline asked.

I was jolted out of my thoughts. "R-Right. I assume you can't just back up the flash drive and copy the data?"

"You assume right."

"Then we probably should let them have it. It's your call but I'd rather not compromise these negotiations. I don't want to risk putting this city through hell again because of a lead on Cauldron."

Faultline begrudgingly agreed. It was a tough thing to let go of.

"You should ask Gregor and Newter," I said. "Their opinions matter just as much on this one."

"I—yeah, you're right. I'll give them a call."

Faultline dialed her phone and held up a finger for Legend to wait a little bit longer. He looked like his patience was being tried. I considered going over and talking to him, but I wasn't sure what to say. Everyone else was long gone.

"Okay." Faultline said. She was still on the phone. "Yeah. We have no idea. No. I don't know. It doesn't matter what she said. Okay."

One-sided conversations were really annoying.

Faultline slid a glance towards Legend then turned away, speaking lower. "They have to know what it is. I know. Yeah, I thought that too. Okay, bye."

She closed her flip-phone and turned to me. "We'll give it up."

"What was that last part about?"

Back to the whispering. "If the PRT wants this back so bad it means they know what it is. Which means they know something about Cauldron. We still have a lead to follow." Faultline spun around. "Legend," she shouted. "Catch!"

She tossed the flash drive over to Legend. He swiftly caught it in the air and pocketed it. "Took long enough."

And with that he was out the door. Shamrock mulled over to us and I was wondering if we should go ahead and get out of here. Velocity seemed uncomfortable being outnumbered by us villains but didn't try to run away.

"Should we go?" I asked.

"Depends if you want the media to see you," Faultline said. "It would be best, but you're not exactly the best speaker."

I shrugged. "I have a feeling that's going to need to change."

 _Ugh_ , am I going to have to ask Madison for lessons? At least she isn't bullying me anymore, but I'm certain she's trying to play me somehow. As soon as it serves her interests she'll stab me in the back. Probably literally.

I'll get around to mastering her. Someday soon. If the end of the world really isn't at stake, there's no reason not to. _Though it might be fun watching her squirm, wondering if this will be the day I come for her._

 _That actually sounds better._

"Let's go," I said.

Faultline, Shamrock and I left the office building. Madison was giving the reporters some sort of briefing and short distance away I saw Calvert doing the same thing. It didn't look official, more like both of them were ambushed on the way back to their lives.

The same happened to us, most of the reporters peeling away from Madison and towards me. They barraged me with questions I mostly answered in either one of two ways. "Yes, the negotiations went well" and "No, I can't elaborate."

Until one couragous reporter: "Wingspan, are you concerned that people will come after you for what you did? Vigilantes and angry parents?"

That one gave me pause. I had to think about it for a second. It wasn't a question I could brush off. I was on TV right now—or at least I would be when they aired it. Maybe. Unless Calvert's speech outshone anything I had to say.

Still, it was a chance.

"Yes," I said. "I'm sure they will. Someone..." Crap, I couldn't stop myself from saying it. "Someone already has. I deserve it and I won't blame the people who try to hurt me. But for their own safety I hope they be careful."

I tried really hard not to make a threat. I had to say anything but a threat, anything at all.

"I don't want more people to get hurt trying to kill me."

Before any follow-up questions could be asked Madison distracted them and said that there were things to do and people to see and crap lines like that, quickly whisking us away to the car. The best we could do was a Squealer-modified Range Rover repaired with scrap metal, rubber bands and duct tape.

For a tinker Squealer wasn't very high class. Kid Win tried to make his devices slick but Squealer had ideas of things she could attach to cars and stuck them on wherever they fit.

The car pulled out of the parking lot and jetted down the road, Shamrock at the wheel. She was by far the best driver out of all of us. Maybe because of her telekenisis or precognition? "Where to, boss?" She asked.

The answer to that question was almost always "the warehouse," but now there was another option. Somewhere I'd wanted to go for a very long time.

"Take me to my house, please." I said.

Faultline turned back at me and grinned. "That felt good to say, didn't it?" She asked. "I sent Newter and Vista to guard him, though I know you've had your own people on him."

There was no way I was going to leave dad vulnerable. To be able to actually go home and stay the night without fear of the PRT or anyone trying to barge in brought a smile to my face.

Faultline's phone rang. She picked it up and then handed it back to me. "It's Emily."

I took the phone. "Hello?"

" _Hi master,"_ she exclaimed. _"Listen, I—_

"— _is that master on the phone?"_ That was Emma's voice. _"Let me speak to her!"_

" _Shut up Emma, you can talk to her when she gets back."_

" _No fair."_

...uh huh. "Emily, um. Was there something you needed?"

" _R-Right! There's someone here. Um, she won't tell me what her name is but she's pretty young. And she's covered in blood and is holding a knife. It's pretty creepy."_

"Excuse me? There's someone holding you at knifepoint?"

Suddenly all eyes were on me. _"Nonono, not really. I mean, she has a knife. And—oh, she's gesturing to me. Phone? You want the phone? Hold on, I'll put her on."_

There was silence on the line for a long time. I heard the shuffling of the phone being passed and then there was some wheezing and heavy breathing. _"...I don't... remember if I spoke... before..."_

I did not recognize the voice. "Who is this?"

" _...perhaps you'll remember me... when you get here. Which you need—cough, cough—to do soon."_

"Emily said you had a knife. If you hurt her—"

" _Just come here. Cough—if you do not there is a seventy-four-point-two percent chance that your dad will die by Valentine's Day."_

The phone disconnected. I lowered it and stared, not quite sure what just happened. _I think my dad's life was just threatened. Probably._ The phrasing she used was out there.

"What's going on Taylor?" Faultline asked.

I looked up. "I don't know. We should get back to the warehouse _now."_ So much for a relaxing day at home.

Shamrock didn't need to be told twice and the RPM redlined. The car lurched forward and suddenly red lights and stop signs were optional. We weaved through traffic like a river, Shamrock in perfect control of the car. I guess when no one was shooting at us it was easier.

The warehouse wasn't more than a ten minute drive, but with the way Shamrock drove we were there within five. She drove the car right up to the main doors and we poured out. Shamrock pulled her pistol along with Faultline. Madison and I hung back and played secondary.

Emily saw us come in guns blazing and put her hands up. "Woah woah, it's not like that." She waved us down. "Master, you need to cool it a bit."

Emily led the four of us—still tense about the whole thing—to the lounge area. On the couch was exactly what Emily had described on the phone. A young girl, maybe about twelve years old, her clothes and arms covered in blood. In her right hand was a kitchen knife. One of those sharp ones.

"Long time no—cough—see."

I tried to figure out who she was. How many twelve-year-old girls did I know? I had a cousin around her age but she lived in California. Was she someone I hurt? Another person looking for revenge?

"I thought you were a better person." Her words were slow. I looked closer and saw she was trembling.

"Sorry," I said. "A lot has happened, it's hard to keep track of it all."

"But you can't even remember your first?"

My...first? I _definitely_ didn't do anything like that to—

"Dinah?" Asked Faultline.

"Yes."

 _Oh._ Fuck me. Dinah Alcott was here? Last I saw her we shipped her off to _I have no idea._ I hadn't thought about what happened to her, but now it's caught up with me. I had to count it on my fingers. April, May, June... six months. Half a year ago I'd done that to her.

At least she was still alive. But whatever happened to her didn't look good.

"I'm sorry," I said. What else could I say?

"I know. It's not okay, but I know." Dinah was cold. She stared at me. Her eyes were sharp but she couldn't maintain the gaze for long before she burst into a coughing fit. Faultline ran to get her some water.

"I don't know what to say." I said. Guess that was it. "Why are you here?"

"I can see the future."

It sounded silly the way she said it. Like something out of a terrible B-movie or wanna-be science fiction novel. But it _wasn't_ silly. Not only did that type of power definitely exist—the gambler standing to my left evidence of that—but it was incredibly likely Dinah actually had a power like that. We all knew that there was _something_ about her we weren't aware of. There hadn't been any ransom and a mayoral _candidate's_ daughter wasn't a high value political target.

Plus, months had gone by without her being found. It couldn't have been something as simple as being sold on the market as a sex slave or something terrible like that. We wouldn't have had to grab _Dinah specifically_ if that was the case.

But it made perfect sense. Someone wanted to use a precog and was willing to kidnap her for it. "I believe you," I said firmly.

"Then—cough—believe what I say next."

Dinah took a deep breath. Her hands trembled as she buried them in her lap.

"There's a ninety-one-point-five-nine percent chance that by Valentine's day there won't be any more heroes."


	34. Interlude (Dinah)

**Interlude (Dinah Alcott)**

Dinah thought the not-impossible-but-extremely-unlikely had actually happened and she had been rescued from that man. There was a rush of relief when the PRT agents burst into the room and told her she was going to be alright. That lasted about ten seconds before she ran the numbers.

 _Inquiry: Will I get to see my family again? Probability: Seven-point-five-four-three—_

The relief vanished as soon as it came. The so-called PRT agents treated her nicely and put her into a nice van and drove her far away to a nice safe house on the edge of the city. But none of it mattered. The excuses they told her—Brockton Bay wasn't safe right now and she can see her family soon—were lies. Maybe lies the agents themselves didn't even know, but they were lies nonetheless.

She was still in **that man's** grasp. He was far more powerful and far-reaching than anybody but her knew. The numbers didn't lie.

They _were_ probabilities though, which is why the seven percent chance was possible. Just not probable. It was a number Dinah considered low enough to not have faith in it happening.

The two agents let her rest on the bed. It was a small house with only one bedroom, so she was on the only one.

She felt awful.

Dinah's entire body shook. She trembled, coughed and sweated. A miserable experience. But even though it hurt, she still ran the numbers. It was all she could do.

It was Faultline's fault, that's what Dinah said over and over again. Faultline. Faultline. Faultline. Dinah wanted to kill her. Dinah wanted to kill her and Taylor and **that man** and all the others. Except Dinah knew the numbers.

 _Will Faultline die in the next year? Probability: Zero-point-five percent._

 _Will Taylor Hebert die in the next year? Probability: Zero-point-zero-eight percent._

 _Will that man die in the next year? Probability: Four-point-four-one percent._

It wasn't going to happen. Dinah didn't know how long she was in the room. Using her powers gave her a headache, but she already _had_ a headache. As long as she didn't ask too many questions it was fine, but excessive use hurt.

One question per hour was a painless number. Two per hour was pushing it. But that's not what **that man** ever wanted. He wanted all five or ten of his questions answered at once before disappearing for days at a time. That was the exact opposite of the ideal thing to do.

Dinah tried to keep her hand from trembling but it didn't work.

 _Inquiry: Can I escape this house and get away? Probability: Eighty-five-point-two-two percent._

She inhaled a quick breath. She almost didn't believe her own ability. Eighty-five percent chance she could escape? That couldn't be right. That didn't make sense.

 _Inquiry: Will I get to see my family again? Probability: Seven-point-five-four-three—_

Dinah could escape but couldn't see her family again. But where could she go if she escaped?

Dinah could escape and go... somewhere. But she'd already asked three questions in a row and her head throbbed. She couldn't push it. Pain was an excellent motivator to not to something. She'd have to think through her inquiries carefully.

The proper way to use her ability was to get the most out of a single number. It would take ages of trial and error to figure out where to go. So Dinah had to do something different.

Her ability sorted through all potential futures and categorized them according to a question. But sorting according to a question wasn't the only way to use it.

Dinah didn't have the knowledge to know the right terminology for what she was doing, but she didn't have to. It came instinctively. She didn't need terms like sorting algorithm or outlier or probability distribution—she just knew that _this_ was the best way to categorize all these possibilities, _these_ ones don't matter and there's some trend like _that._

There was one major thing that Dinah was both looking forward to and dreading all at once though:

 _Will I still have my ability a year from now? Probability: Eight-point-four-one percent._

It wasn't like that for only her. It was like that for almost everybody. That man had asked her a lot of questions on it.

 _Himself: Eight-point-four-one. Transistor: Eight-point-four-one. Velocity: Eight-point-four-one. Alexandria: Ninety-nine-point-nine-five-nine. Legend: Eight-point-four-one. Eidolon: Ninety-nine-point-nine-five-nine. Wingspan: Ninety-nine-point-nine-five-nine. Faultline: Eight-point-four-one—_

Dinah had no idea the implications of what would happen other than lots of people would suddenly lose their powers. But it felt like a bad thing. It would have to be something bad that happened.

She finished sorting the future possibilities of escaping her homely prison cell.

 _In eighty-two-point-two-one percent of worlds she escapes to a warehouse on third and fifth and meets Taylor Hebert._

 _In ten-point-zero-zero percent of worlds she escapes to an abandoned factory and meets the Undersiders._

 _The remaining worlds were of negligible probability._

Dinah couldn't help but verify:

 _Inquiry: Will Taylor Hebert protect me if I ask for her help? Probability: Ninety-eight-point-one percent._

She didn't have to make another inquiry to deduce that Taylor felt guilty. That was good, Dinah supposed. Though she still hated her. And Faultline. And all the others for getting her into this in the first place. But if they felt guilty Dinah would have refuge there.

She could actually escape. Somehow—some miracle occurred that would let her escape from this little house and get away from that man. She had no idea what was happening that would put him off his guard but this was a chance she had to take.

No matter how bad the headaches got Dinah would reach into that future and pull her path to victory from it. From the field of probabilities she would pull her escape route. Forget worlds she failed to escape and ignore the ones she doesn't make it to Taylor. What does she have to do _right now?_

 _Inquiry: If I go in the next thirty minutes—eighty-eight-point-five._

 _Inquiry: If I go in the next ten minutes—eighty-nine-point-seven._

She had to do it. She had to do it now. She had to bear with the pain and the dizziness and the shaking and all the terrible things that she was putting her body through. If she could bear with it she could grasp that important thing she wanted more than anything. That freedom.

Dinah pulled herself off the bed. She could barely stand, but the universe _told_ _her_ she could do it. So she stood.

 _Inquiry: Highest probability of success—head to kitchen. Acquire weapon. Eighty-six._

Dinah made her way to the kitchen, looking out for the guards. There was someone sitting on the couch in the living room watching the television. It was some animated show but it didn't look like any cartoon Dinah had ever watched.

He didn't notice her shuffle into the kitchen. There was something she could use in the sink. A sharp cooking knife. It would work. She picked it up.

 _Inquiry: Route of escape—living room window top success chance; ninety-five percent._

That was a problem. The guard was sitting watching TV in the living room. There was no way Dinah could get to the window and get out of here with him sitting there.

 _Inquiry: Attempt to distract him—probability of success forty-point-zero-one percent._

 _Inquiry: Attempt to kill him—probability of success ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent._

She stumbled and fell onto her knees. Dinah used her ability too much. The mental faculties weren't there.

Dinah was like a zombie. Her head was killing her and her body was trying to do its best to outdo it. There was no mental debate nor question. She didn't even think about it. She was maximizing success before she fell unconscious from the pain.

The guard had taken his helmet off. Dinah forced herself to her feet and crept up behind him.

With one thrust she stuck the knife into the side of his neck.

"Grkaaaaaahhh," he shouted spewing blood from his mouth. Dinah ripped the knife out, splattering blood all over her arms. She jammed the knife in again then out again before the guard fell onto the floor clutching his neck.

Dinah bolted for the open window. She climbed onto the shelf below it and hopped out into the bushes. They scratched her.

 _Inquiry: Direction to run—majority of successes away from the street._

Dinah heard someone bust into the room and scream something into their radio. But she bolted, running to the treeline. It wasn't a forest, just a little grove of trees. But the numbers directed her and she obeyed.

The sky was red. Dinah barely registered it as a fact.

She wasn't able to run. She had to slow her pace to a walk and instead of bolting from her cage she silently crept away from it. The other side of the tree grove was another road. She emerged right in front of a stoplight.

 _Inquiry: Next move done in majority of—_

Dinah grabbed her head and fell over. It was too painful. She couldn't complete the inquiry. That was it. She used it too much. There wasn't anything she could do with it anymore.

She had to make her own way. Her ability had gotten her this far, but it was up to her now.

An open-bed truck pulled up to the stoplight. Dinah couldn't use her ability and she didn't know for a fact it would take her where she needed to go. But it would take her somewhere. And it appeared right when she needed it to.

She ran into the street and hopped into the back of the truck, lying down so no one would see her. The light eventually turned green and the truck went on its way.

Dinah was spent. Her ability had gotten her into the bed of the truck, but no further. The rest would have to be divined from nothing but her own guesses and hopes.

Brockton Bay was too big for a kid like Dinah to grasp. She barely knew anything past her cul-de-sac. Even if she got off this truck and tried to run home she wouldn't know where to go. Dinah was a lost little girl.

Her breaths were deep and she relaxed the grip on her knife. At least she could rest. She could rest for this little truck ride. Above her was the red sky, weird cloud formations casting shadows all over Brockton Bay. Sun should have poured over the city but instead it was coated by miasma.

Relaxing didn't work. It was no fault of Dinah's that her body was crumbling under withdrawal from substances she didn't know. But there wasn't anything she could do but bear with the shaking, trembling, sweat and pain.

The best thing to do would have been to get her mind off it, but there was no way that could happen.

The pickup stopped at a stoplight. Dinah looked around over the bed to see where she was, but it didn't help. A few stoplights more and Dinah realized she wouldn't know the right location if they happened to stop there.

Another use of her ability would knock her unconscious from the pain. Her head was already throbbing more than it could take.

Dinah's decision was made for her when the pickup slowed down and parallel parked on the street. She tried to control her breathing and stay silent as the driver got out.

The driver closed the car door and walked down the length of the pickup. Dinah scrunched next to the side and hoped not to be seen. She thought it worked until the driver came around and lowered the tail gate, exposing her position.

"I seem to have picked up a hitchhiker," said the driver. It was a female voice and when Dinah looked at her she was confused. It was a lady wearing a suit and old-timey hat. Dinah didn't know the name of the hat, but the whole outfit didn't scream "truck driver."

"S..sorry," Dinah said before a fit of coughs.

"Lost I presume?" The driver asked.

Dinah couldn't use her ability. She _was_ lost. All she could do was trust in her ability that got her here.

"I'm look—cough—looking for Taylor. She's the—cough—the person who—"

"Don't worry," the driver said with a knowing smile. "I know who you're talking about. Her hideout is one block in that direction." The driver pointed behind her. "It's the warehouse with the pile of tires in front of it."

Dinah thanked the woman, not asking nor caring how she knew that. The driver helped her off the bed of the truck but made no motion to assist further. Dinah walked down the sidewalk without registering how irresponsible of a person she just interacted with. Her head trobbed too much to notice.

It was only a block, but for a child it was a journey. Add on the health conditions that marred her and Dinah felt like she had made a pilgrimage from the pickup to the warehouse. When she approached the front no one greeted her, but one of the large doors was open. Dinah walked right in.

There was at least somebody inside that noticed her.

"Ah, oh my god." Someone shouted. "Are you alright?"

Dinah stared at the person who came up to her. It was a girl. "I w-want to talk to Taylor." Dinah said.

"Umm. Okay. But are you hurt? Here, you can lie down on the couch."

The girl led Dinah over to an old ripped up couch. Dinah collapsed onto it. Was she safe now? It was tempting to try to confirm with her ability, but she didn't dare until the throbbing subsided.

A few more people wandered over. Dinah recognized some of them from when they kidnapped her. Figures she burned into her mind so she would always know who ruined her life. One day she would exact vengeance on them.

But that wouldn't be today. She was in no position.

One of them dialed a cell phone and put it up to her ear. "Hi Faultline. Can you put master on?" A few seconds passed with Dinah watching her. She was there, the phone-girl, during the kidnapping. "Hi master, listen, I—"

"Is that master on the phone?" Another person interrupted. "Let me speak to her!"

"Shut up Emma, you can talk to her when she gets back."

"No fair."

Dinah tried to parse the conversation, but couldn't. Instead she stared at phone-girl. If Taylor was on the other end of that line, she wanted to speak to her.

"R-Right! There's someone here." Phone-girl looked at Dinah with a weird expression. "Um, she won't tell me what her name is but she's pretty young. And she's covered in blood and is holding a knife. It's pretty creepy."

Dinah was offended. She _knew_ this person was one of those who kidnapped her. How did she not recognize her? Dinah shouldn't have had to introduce herself. Phone-girl should have said something like "Dinah Alcott just walked in, she looks in bad shape." That _should_ have been how the conversation went.

"Nonono, not really. I mean, she has a knife. And—"

Dinah outstretched her arm at phone-girl and opened up her palm. If she let this person handle the conversation absolutely nothing would happen. Taylor might not even come back.

"Oh, she's gesturing to me. Phone?" She knelt down by Dinah. "You want the phone? Hold on," She said back into the phone. "I'll put her on."

Phone-girl, who now needed a new monicker, handed her cellphone over to Dinah. Her hands were a bit bloody but she didn't care about ruining the phone. Dinah held it up to her ear. Taylor probably wouldn't recognize her. "I don't... remember if I spoke... before..."

" _Who is this?"_

It was getting hard to push the words out. "Perhaps you'll remember me... when you get here. Which you need—cough, cough—to do soon."

" _Emily said you had a knife. If you hurt her—"_

"Just come here." Dinah coughed. So phone-girl was named Emily. Dinah knew nothing about her other than that and she participated in her kidnapping, but she needed Taylor to get here. She wouldn't be safe unless they could speak. "If you do not there is a seventy-four-point-two percent chance that your dad will die by Valentine's Day."

That one Dinah just made up. When asked a direct question Dinah wasn't able to lie. Something compelled her to make the inquiry and give the right answer. But she still had the freedom to talk on her own. She could lie all she wanted about other stuff—things she didn't bother to inquire about.

She had never run the numbers on Taylor's dad, but _most_ people were likely to die that day. It was probably true for him too.

Dinah shut the flip phone. The threat worked exactly as she hoped it would and Taylor was there within minutes. But in those few minutes Dinah had to think about what she wanted to say. Somewhere in there needed to be a "please protect me from that man," but Dinah wasn't sure she could trust these people.

In fact she was certain she couldn't. Her ability said they would protect her from that man but it wasn't guaranteed to be safe. For all she knew they might do the same thing to her that man did. Or worse.

But Taylor arrived before Dinah figured out what to say. And she didn't have the mental capacity to come up with a clever lie about why they need to treat her nice and not do terrible things to her. Dinah couldn't come up with anything convincing.

So she defaulted to the truth and told Taylor the most shocking true fact she knew.

"There's a ninety-one-point-five-nine chance that by Valentine's day there won't be any more heroes."

The room was shocked into silence. Taylor was the first one to speak up. "What do you mean by that?" she asked slowly.

"I mean lots of—cough—people lose their superpowers," Dinah clarified. "I don't know why. They just... do."

"Not everyone?" Taylor asked. There were some nervous looks being tossed back and fourth between everyone. Dinah didn't know if she was on the right path, but it was the one she was on. There wasn't anything to do now but go forward.

"Most of them. Not you. But _you_ do." Dinah said, pointing at Faultline. Then she moved her finger to Transistor. "And you." And she moved her finger back to herself. "And me."

"But what about the Triumvariate?" Taylor asked quickly. "Or the Endbringers—do the Endbringers still exist?"

Dinah was still. She had to take a few breaths. "Legend loses them. Others don't. I dunno about Endbringers."

There were a few mutterings of "this is bad" and "this could be great" and "this could be really really bad." Dinah didn't know. She looked forward to not having her power anymore. Because of her power that man had kidnapped her and tortured her. Without her power, no one would care about Dinah.

Taylor leaned against a large stone column in the room. "Why did you come to _me?"_ She asked. She didn't look at Dinah. She stared at the ceiling. "Shouldn't you go tell the heroes this? Why do _I_ have to be the one to deal with this?"

"If I go to them... that man will get me again."

"She means Coil," Faultline clarified. Dinah hadn't known his name. A few of the people in the room raised an eyebrow, but Faultline waved them down. "He's alive, yeah. I don't know why he faked his death. Easier to operate I assume."

Taylor frowned. "He must have people inside the PRT if going there would get you caught again."

Dinah didn't know anything about that. She just knew that if she ran to the heroes somehow she would be back in that man's grasp. So instead she ran to Taylor, regardless of past history. Today was what mattered.

"Do you think that will effect our talks?" Taylor asked.

Faultline shrugged. "No idea. Probably not. Most likely he has some low-level grunts in administration working for him. Nobody who has any real power."

"Still though."

Dinah coughed. She thought the losing-superpowers-thing would have been higher priority. So she told them as much.

Transistor rolled her eyes. "None of us know how powers really _work,"_ she said. "What exactly are we supposed to do about it? Besides plan for our inevitable losing of powers, of course." She slid her gaze over to Taylor. "If _this_ one gets to keep hers though we'll be fine."

The others shrugged and agreed with Transistor. It left Dinah with a bad taste in her mouth. These weren't the people who would do anything about what she just told them. They would only use that knowledge for themselves.

Those were the types of people that villains were. People who would let the bad thing happen and make sure they leveraged it to their own gain.

Dinah might be safe here. Safe from that man. But if she wanted to do anything to actually change the inevitable, she couldn't _stay_ here. She'd need those numbers back. There were so many numbers she needed to run. So many questions she had.

It would be nice for her to lose her powers, but with the loss of powers there were so many deaths as well. Dinah couldn't figure out exactly what happened, but on Valentine's day powers were lost and thousands died.

She thought she could stop it. These people wouldn't help, but there had to be _someone_ who would take her prophecy seriously. Alexandria, maybe. Or Eidolon. Or Legend. One of those people.

Her head throbbed so she didn't dare run another inquiry. But Dinah was worried. She stared at Transistor. She was the shortest person in the room and it was the first time Dinah saw her in person. But that man had made her run so many numbers for her. This Transistor person.

The numbers hadn't painted her of any real importance.

Transistor saw Dinah staring at her and smiled. It was innocent and pure and warmed Dinah's heart. But Dinah already knew more about her than anyone could know. Transistor always made the numbers worse.

It was hard to believe though. With that smile.

Transistor knelt down next to Dinah. "Dinah," she said softly. "Do you need a doctor? I'm sure we can find someone discreet."

She made the numbers worse. Whatever it was, Transistor always made more people die. Or more bad things happen. Whatever side she was on tended to win, but it was always a bad win. All those days running numbers for that man Dinah decided Transistor was a bad person. A bad person who's presence made the world bad.

Her touch was warm and her voice was soft. "Panacea doesn't like me very much, but she would probably want to help you. Do you want me to try to find her?"

Dinah wanted to be healed. And Transistor sounded earnest. It had been a little while. Dinah could probably run one more inquiry without overexerting herself. Her head wasn't pounding anymore, just lightly throbbing. One wouldn't hurt.

What should she ask?

Dinah wanted to feel better. Her hands trembled, she was sweating, her throat was dry and her head hurt. When confronted with that—with all of that—the safety of the world had to be put on hold.

 _Inquiry: Will I be healed if I let Transistor take care of me? Probability: Seventy-eight-point-two percent._

It wasn't bad. Not absolute, but pretty good. A seventy-eight chance to get better. The numbers painted Transistor as this presence that ruined everything, but she was being really nice. And she would help Dinah get better.

"Okay," she said quietly.

Transistor smiled and took her phone out of her pocket. Dinah couldn't hear whoever was on the receiving end so all she was privy to was a one-sided conversation. Taylor and the others milled around, looking concerned as Transistor made the call.

"Hi, it's me. Can't I just call to say hello?" Transistor laughed. "Well, how should I put it. Trying to be heroes? Something like that. Someone walked into our secret base really hurt. She's just a kid and the only way we have to heal people is... well, Legend wouldn't approve." Madison nodded a few times, not that the other person on the end of the call could see her. "I'm not quite sure I should say. Isn't there something like doctor-patient confidentiality?"

Transistor's face suddenly went dark and a pit opened in Dinah's stomach. Her head throbbed too much to read the numbers.

"How did you know that?" Transistor asked darkly. She went quiet. "That's not what happened. What did you— …yeah..."

She was quiet for a long time. Longer than Dinah thought meant a good sign. A seventy-eight percent likelihood still left a twenty-two percent of it not happening. Dinah felt like that was the pit that she just fell into.

"If you know all that then why are you helping us?" Transistor asked.

Another long pause where Transistor didn't say a thing until she finally lowered the phone from her ear. Dinah wasn't the only one who noticed the strange change in tone. Everyone stared at her. But Transistor stared at her phone.

She shook herself out of it and looked back to Dinah. "R-Right, sorry." She said putting back on her smile. "Um, I got Panacea's number so I'll call her next okay?" Transistor flashed Dinah the screen on her phone which had an incoming text with a phone number on it.

Even when asked, Transistor didn't say what happened on that clearly important call. But Panacea _did_ come and fix Dinah up, so she managed to land in seventy-eight percent world. Whatever that mysterious phone call was about probably wasn't about her.

Best to put it out of her mind.


	35. HFC 4-1

**4.1 HFC**

December is terrible.

It wasn't the cold. Or the snow. Bundling in a big, fur coat and walking around Brockton Bay was lovely, and returning to a fire and hot chocolate even more so. But big, fur coats are not fashionable. Not when it's _truly_ cold.

No one is intimidated by a little girl in a coat too big for her.

I groaned and stared up at the mounted television. The waitress noticed who I was and brought the food quickly enough, but I wish she hadn't. Then I would just be a cute high schooler rather than the cute holy-shit-it's-the-director-of-HFC. Or whatever thought ran through the waitress's mind when she suddenly started stuttering and ran back to the kitchen with my order.

Though it was a fun feeling in its own right.

"Maddy, you're frowning."

Dinah sat next to me and stared at my face instead of eating her food. "Sorry," I said. "Just mad that the damn weather gets to decide my outfit rather than me."

Dinah didn't know how to respond to that and went back to her burger. In front of me was a salad and across the table was a chicken sandwich. Its owner ate it with slow bites, clearly trying to muster up the courage to tell me what she came here for.

"So, Charlotte." I said. "I know we were in a lot of the same classes but we weren't friends. There's going to be a limit to what you can leverage out of that very loose relationship we have."

Charlotte bit her lip and set down her fork. But the edge of my comment was taken off by the coat I wore. Even inside the restaurant I still had to wear it. Their heating sucked.

Charlotte buried her hands in her lap and refused to meet my gaze. "Um. I'm sorry, Madison. I... well, I kind of wanted to speak to Taylor, but I didn't know how to contact her."

Well yeah, that was obvious. Taylor was one of the most important people in Brockton Bay. Maybe even top twenty in America. People like that can't be called up on the phone to chat. There are armies of assistants and secretaries between someone like her and people like Charlotte.

I guess I was one of those people. "I'm pretty sure she hates everyone from Winslow. You're barking up the wrong tree."

Charlotte shook her head. "That's not—I mean. I don't want money or anything."

Dinah tugged on my sleeve. "Maddy you're being mean."

"Sorry, sorry." I laughed it off and ruffled her hair. She put her hands on her head defensively and pouted. "Well," I said turning back to Charlotte. "What exactly _is_ it you want?"

It took her a while to form the sentence. As soon as she said it I understood the hesitation that precluded it. It wasn't something anyone should utter. It didn't make sense.

"I want Taylor to bite me."

Even though Charlotte gave that request the respect it deserves, I couldn't believe her. It was nonsense. It spoke to brain damage more than any rational decision-making process.

I must have held my fork in the air for five seconds. "You want her to what?"

"I did the research. All of her thralls seem really happy. Some of them post on PHO about how happy they are serving her." Charlotte held her arm and still didn't meet my gaze. "I haven't really been in a good place. My family is gone and I want to die. But if... I don't know."

Dinah took the conversation more seriously than me. If she wasn't here then I would tell Charlotte okay, fine, do whatever you want. This sort of moral quandary was for Taylor to sort out. Another unpaid employee was fine by me.

Except Dinah was here. I was playing the game on hard mode.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "Shouldn't you see a psychologist or somebody? There's this Yamada person who's been all over us recently. I could send her your way."

"I can't afford that."

I took a bite of my sandwich. Generally speaking, eating during someone's big important request was rude. That social etiquette was dampened significantly when such conversations happened over an actual meal, but not eliminated completely.

This really was hard mode. We couldn't afford it either. As soon as Taylor speaks with Charlotte she'll _insist_ on paying for Yamada to talk to her despite it not being in the budget. Yamada was some sort of genius psychologist. Her rates were through the roof.

"That's cruel," I said. "Your only path to happiness is through servitude and only because you don't have the money to pay someone to cure you. I can ask, but to be honest we aren't swimming in money. We can't pay for it for you."

Charlotte shook her head. "I didn't really expect that. There was some free therapy after Leviathan, but it didn't do any good." She put a chip in her mouth and munched on it. An excuse not to say anything more.

Sorry, Charlotte, it's all for the little girl's sake beside me. "It's not my decision," I said. "But can I make a suggestion?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Well, maybe you should spend time with some of the thralls. Most of the non-parahuman ones live in-house. See if it's actually something you want."

Charlotte nodded.

Dinah resumed eating her food. That was a good sign. Her insistence to follow me around was making it harder to deal with people, but I asked for it. Having a precog sidekick was second only to having a healer one.

No wonder Glory Girl can get away with so much shit. I should have seen that one earlier.

"I'll let Emma know you'll be staying there," I told Charlotte. "Do you know the place?"

"Yeah. I saw the banners. I tried to go in but no one would give me the time of day."

Well, it wasn't exactly that sort of company. We had a lobby and a front desk but without actual business the thrall manning it would have turned Charlotte away.

I steered the conversation to something else but Charlotte wasn't willing to talk. A real downer. Probably because of that crippling depression she was feeling. Dinah probably already knew what would happen to her.

 _I shouldn't ask._

"Thank you," Charlotte said after finishing her meal. I smiled at her.

"Best of luck," I said. "It would be nice if you could be happier without having to resort to this, but we all have to survive best we can."

Charlotte excused herself from the restaurant without a word. That left Dinah and me, both our plates clean. It still didn't make sense.

Why would somebody want to be bitten?

"I don't get it," I said. "Why would she ask me that?"

"She's sad," Dinah said. "If Taylor bites her she'll be happy. Isn't it that simple?"

I didn't respond. That sort of logic didn't click. The path to happiness was to be bitten by Taylor? Sure it made sense on a surface level. The thralls certainly were pretty damn happy to be slaves. But before that affect hit you—before you were that happy mindless slave—

Didn't she have things she wanted to accomplish on her own?

Didn't Charlotte have a goal? A reason for being? Who throws that away to adopt someone else's reason? Maybe if it really was just happy obedience that would be fine. But I would rather make my own plans. I won't follow someone else's. Especially if that person is Taylor.

Sophia would refer to someone like Charlotte as prey. There weren't any easy categories like that though. Any statement that has the form "you're either blank or blank" will fall apart under careful scrutiny. But I can see why it's tempting after meeting someone who so obviously falls into the prey category.

"I should call Emma." I took out my phone, but Dinah stopped me.

"It's going to happen again," she said softly.

I pushed her hand away. "Thank you," I said. "But you really don't have to do that."

Dinah played with her fork. She spoke in barely more than a whisper. _"...it makes the numbers go up."_

I gave her a pat on the back. "You're a good kid, Dinah." I said softly and put my hands in my lap. At this point there isn't much for me to do except wait. But that wouldn't be natural, so I waved the waitress over and had her serve a small desert. An excuse to stay at the table.

The smart thing would be to teleport out of here, but running away doesn't suit me.

"Sure you want to stay here?" I asked.

Dinah nodded, but I noticed she slid towards the other end of the booth. Can't really blame her for that one. I tried not to look at her and instead I stared at the empty seat across from us. The waitress came back quickly with the cake and I cut it in half.

I grabbed Dinah's plate and slid half the slice onto hers before pushing it back. It was pretty big. Bigger than I thought it would be. I didn't plan on having more than a few bites, though Dinah greedily dug into it.

— _Bang!_

The bullet slammed into the booth in front of me. I spun in my seat to see a man in a large coat pointing a gun at me.

— _Bang!_

A window shattered and the bullet pierced into his arm. He fell over, dropping the gun. I didn't have to run over. I simply teleported to where he was on the ground clutching his arm. The gun was nearby and he tried to reach for it.

I stepped on his arm and quickly grabbed it. I flipped the safety back on and gave the man a solid kick into his side. "Why the hell did you do that?" I screamed. He recoiled from the kick so I kicked him again. "Why do you people keep trying to do this to me? I don't even _know_ you."

The man coughed and tried to run away. It was easy enough to trip him and he fell back onto the floor. I knelt down by him this time and punched him in the face.

"I know I messed up," I said with a punch.

"But I'm trying to make up for it," I yelled with another punch.

"Why can't you get that?" Another punch.

The next one I aimed for his wound so it would actually hurt. He screamed and tried to get away again. This time I slammed my foot down hard on his leg. I heard a crack. I stomped on it again for good measure, but the first had been enough.

He wasn't capable of using that leg anymore.

Dinah shuffled up next to me and, after making her presence known, reached out for my hand. I nodded to her and grabbed it.

"It's okay, that's enough." She said.

I sat down on the ground a few feet away from the criminal who tried to shoot me. I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face into them. Dinah sat down and leaned against me.

"I called the police," she said. I nodded without looking at her. The restaurant was bathed in nothing but hushed tones and whispers from the other patrons. There had been screams at first but I took the man down in seconds.

He clutched his shoulder where the bullet entered, writhing on the ground from his broken leg. Dinah put her arms around me in an attempt to console me.

Good.

I would prefer this not to happen, but I can leverage it. Especially with Dinah letting me know in advance it would occur. I stared at the man. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon with that broken leg.

No one in this room but me knew what truly just happened.

He had shot me without warning in the back of the head. I teleported the bullet in front of me and it buried itself into the cushion. I then spun around so I could look at him and direct the next one. He shot me in the nose and I teleported it behind him.

My ability retains momentum, and since he shot me in the nose my line of sight wouldn't let me move the bullet so it could actually hit him. I pushed it outside the window instead and used the shattering glass to deflect the bullet into his shoulder.

He might think someone outside had shot him.

Getting the gun away from him was crucial, but not immediately picking it up and finishing him off was _also_ crucial. In a public place like this where everyone could see me—including Dinah—I couldn't act the relentless murderer. That would make things too complicated.

The clothes wouldn't push the image well either. Madison the cute, victimized high school girl was the public persona of choice. The PRT was more on board with that anyways.

So I had to throw a tantrum and disable the guy in the process. I unfurled my hands from around my legs and Dinah let go. "T-Thanks," I stuttered.

The police would show up soon and once I gave them my name the PRT would steal their open-and-shut case. Though this was Brockton Bay and not a great neighborhood, so "soon" might be half an hour.

All of the restaurant's patrons decided to pay their bills and leave before the police showed up. The only people who stuck around were the restaurant staff.

A few of the waitresses and cooks peered over at Dinah and me to see if the danger was really over. The man hadn't fallen unconscious or anything, but was disabled enough not to try to escape.

I still watched him.

"Hey," I said. "Why did you try to kill me?" My voice was softer than when I yelled at him, but he kept silent. "Did you hear me?" I asked.

"Fuck you," he growled.

"You must have a reason, right?" I asked. "The Protectorate couldn't kill me, so you couldn't have expected to really succeed. So you had a really strong reason, right?"

He coughed. "You should be dead. You can't deflect bullets, you're just a teleporter."

I quickly put my hand over my mouth. If I hadn't, the bystanders would see me smiling. _Just a teleporter._ I was flattered and insulted at the same time. Though admittedly the "deflecting bullets" thing didn't occur to me until after the whole debacle in September. "Deflect" isn't the right word though. I can't change the velocity of a bullet, I can only change its position. But that's enough.

While I had to visually see the destination, I didn't need to see the object I was moving. My clothes came with me when I teleported, after all, and I didn't have to look at them.

Neither did I have to be consciously aware of things I teleported. Evidenced by how once upon a time an Undersider came along for the ride. As painful as that experience was, it meant any activation of my ability could move things I wasn't even aware of.

I couldn't blame the man for thinking I couldn't move bullets away.

"That can't be..." I said slowly. "Just because I'm easy to kill? You wanted to kill me just because you could? That's horrible."

"You deserve it," he spat.

A stupid reason, but he was venting at his loss. The only issue with teleporting speeding bullets—the issue why I hadn't considered it immediately—was the reaction time. The time it takes for a bullet to exit a gun and hit me is thousands of times quicker than the time it takes me to realize what's happening and think to move the bullet away.

But I didn't have to think. I could teleport things subconsciously. And stuff like air wasn't affected by my ability either, which meant that I could constantly "teleport things around me away." Air wasn't effected and I could consciously not include my clothing.

But anything else would move away. I might not even notice it. An impassable barrier. It's why Dinah didn't grab my hand until I gave her permission.

And again after making her intentions clear, Dinah grabbed my arm. "Don't talk to him Maddy, he's just a bad guy."

I nodded and let Dinah drag me away. I had her keep an eye on him while I bothered one of the cooks for some rope to tie the guy up. While handing it over they hesitantly asked if I could take him away somewhere so they could get back to running their restaurant.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Sorry to cause you so much trouble. I'll come back to pay my bill later."

With that, Dinah grabbed our bags and I teleported us outside. There was an empty lot nearby I moved to along with the now-tied-up gunman. We still had to wait for the cops to arrive. As I guessed, it took fifteen minutes.

The ambulance wasn't far behind and the paramedics started tending to the guy who got shot while the police asked me questions. The first was my name.

"Madison Clements," I said. But there was no reaction from the officer. It's not like _everyone_ in Brockton Bay knew who I was. I wasn't a celebrity.

The officer nodded and wrote it down in his notebook. "Do you know why this man tried to shoot you?"

"I imagine it has to do with either the Red Sky incident or my job. I'm the director of HFC."

He started to write it down, but then his pencil slowed. Well at least he realized it once I told him. "Ah," he said. "We're going to have to call the PRT for this one."

"Go ahead."

As predicted, there were more delays as the officer contacted the PRT and then _they_ had to send a van out. They arrived a lot more quickly. It was only five minutes later that the van pulled up. I hadn't expected anyone but some suits, but the girl out of the passenger seat was a familiar face.

Sophia walked up with confidence in her steps. She was in her costume so it was Shadow Stalker, really. "Long time no see, shorty."

"It hasn't been that long. White hats treating you right?"

Sophia sat down on the bench next to me and crossed her legs. The ambulance had left by the time the PRT showed up so the suspect was gone. "Can't complain," she said. "Culture's different now. After that shit you pulled things are a lot more straightforward. Want to tell me what happened to the retard who thought he could take you?"

"Run through with his own bullet," I said. I glanced towards Dinah. Crap, I couldn't quite be myself with her sitting here. "And other injuries," I said simply.

"Who's the kid?" Sophia asked. She noticed my hesitation.

"I'm taking care of her."

"Hmmm." Sophia looked at Dinah, but lost interest. "Know what the piece of shit wanted you dead for? Besides the obvious."

Ugh, Sophia, way to notice the kid and swear anyways. "Naw. Never seen him before and I don't think he's related to any of the capes I—" I stopped myself. Fuck, Dinah sitting here was making this hard. An investment worth making but I was still playing with one hand tied behind my back.

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Probably just some loon. It's good that you hurt him, we might be able to squeeze a confession out of him. Gotta admit I'm surprised he's still breathing."

"I don't enjoy killing people, you know." I said.

"Sure you don't," she protested. "Go tell that to your victims and see how they feel."

Alright, as soon as she leaves I need to immediately tell Dinah something like how we're not really friends. No, that won't work. Maybe a lecture. Don't be like Sophia, Dinah! Yeah, something like that.

"So here's the report," Sophia said. "Some lowlife tried to shoot Madison and accidentally shot himself instead. After all the racial slurs he yelled of course. Short and simple, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "He accidentally shot himself. In the shoulder. From behind."

"Sure."

"And committed a hate crime against a white girl, when he's also white."

"I don't see the problem. That's everything, right?"

I sighed. "He broke his ankle. Tripped or something. Other than that, you got it."

Sophia laughed. I cracked a smile too at the absurdity of the situation. There was no doubt in my mind that Sophia actually would put all that in the report. Despite the fact it's nonsense there will be _no one_ who is going to do anything about it.

"Come on, Dinah." I said. "Let's go. I'll take you back to HFC."

"See you around, shorties." Sophia said.


	36. HFC 4-2

**4.2** **HFC**

I didn't get much sleep that night. It wasn't the first or even the second time that someone tried to kill me like that, but it ran through my mind. Without my ability I would be dead. And if I wasn't clever enough to use my ability as a pseudo-forcefield I would also be dead.

Taylor didn't have people coming out of the woodwork to kill her like I did. She gave the illusion of overwhelming power and invulnerability. No one even tried. But I was trying to play up the fact I was just a little girl.

Somehow people still wanted to kill a little girl.

When it was clear I wasn't going to get much sleep I got up and made myself breakfast. My parents had already gone off to work and my brother to school so it was just me. It was a weekday but I had nowhere to be. There was no point in attending Winslow or Arcadia.

After cooking some eggs I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. There was a report of someone being killed down by the beaches. That was still Undersider territory but the report didn't look relevant. Without anything else to watch I occupied my time with it.

At some point I fell asleep. As soon as I'd stop trying I actually napped.

I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing sometime later. "Clements residence," I said sleepily.

" _It's Faultline. I'm looking over this shipping manifest and I had some questions."_

It took me a minute to get my bearings. "Which one?"

" _The one going out today. A bunch of Bakuda's stuff. Let me read you out what my questions are on."_

I switched which hand my phone was in and listened to Faultline rattle off some of the more suspect items we were shipping out. We were an independent contractor, which was a fancy way of saying mercenaries. The PRT had "hired" all of its heroes back, though we held onto Bakuda and Squealer. I wanted to keep Kid Win too but wasn't able to negotiate for it.

We had taken to selling tinker merchandise on the side. If Toy Box could do it so could we, though there were all these guidelines Bakuda absolutely hated like "no nuclear bombs" and such. I had no problems with that one.

The doorbell rang and I sighed. Everything always happened at once. "Hold on Faultline, someone's at my door. Also, yes, Bakuda made ten more of those round things the other day so we added them in."

" _She called them Rol_ _y_ _Polies."_

"Pretty sure it was someone else who named it," I said. I held my phone in my left hand and opened the door with my right. A father and daughter were there with a cart full of girl scout cookies.

"Go ahead," said the dad.

The girl looked fairly young. Probably older than Dinah though. "Umm, hi, I'm selling cookies." She said. "Wanna buy some?"

I looked in the basket. "Sure. Do you have Thin Mints?"

The girl nodded. "Uh huh! Four dollars."

"Alright, let me go get the money." I wandered back into the kitchen where we kept the cash. "Sorry Faultline, girl scouts are at the door."

" _Wow, is it that time of the year already? Buy me some."_

"Get your own. Hold on a minute, I'm putting down the phone." I grabbed the four dollars and left the phone in the kitchen. Faultline would have to survive without me. "Here you are," I said handing the girl the four dollars. She took a green box out of her cart and handed it to me.

"Thank you," she exclaimed. "You're really nice."

"Uh, thanks." Apparently little girls have a thing for me. "You're nice too. What grade are you in?"

"I'm in fifth grade."

"Isn't it Wednesday? Taking the day off school?"

The girl pouted. "No, school let out. I'm a good student!"

"What?" I spun around and stretched my neck to see the clock. "Crap, it's already three-thirty?" That nap was a lot longer than I thought it was. It felt like half an hour, tops.

"Hey, no swearing!"

My face went red. "Ah, sorry," I said. "Thanks for the cookies. Have a nice day."

"Thanks!"

I closed the door as they left. I tossed the box of cookies onto the fridge to eat later and grabbed the phone. "I'm back," I said. "How is it already three-thirty?"

" _The Earth's rotation._ _Did you buy me anything?"_

"I already told you to buy them yourself. Should I bother coming to the office?" I usually kept a typical schedule from nine to five, though there was no one to fire me if I didn't show.

" _You could. Taylor's still here for some reason so it would be nice to have a meeting."_

I shouldn't have said anything. A _me_ _eting._ Just kill me now.

I hung up the phone and headed towards the HFC office. There was no reason to hide from the public anymore so I teleported openly along the sidewalk. Even though it was a fifteen minute car ride from my house to HFC, with my ability I could be there in five.

Faultline was waiting for me in the garage. "Fast as always."

"Yeah. Is this the shipment?" I pointed to the truck. A few thralls were loading boxes into it. Faultline nodded and handed me the manifest to check it over. While I looked it over Charlotte stepped out of the truck and carefully wheeled a dolly behind her.

When she saw me she gave a wave and a smile. There were fangs in those teeth.

"Isn't Taylor exercising her ability a little liberally?" I asked Faultline. She had taken out a cigarette while I finished inspecting the cargo. "I thought she would turn Charlotte away."

Faultline frowned. She wasn't wearing her mask—revealing herself as Melanie Fitts made it unnecessary—but she felt more like a "Faultline" than a Melanie. "Unfortunately she's getting used to it. I think Panacea's little reveal did more harm than good."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it yourself. In any case, thanks for your hard work. Taylor's upstairs in her office if you want to see her." She took a drag on her cigarette. "Let's meet in the conference room in half an hour."

I left the warehouse with only Faultline's cryptic words as a parting gift. Despite my ability it was necessary to walk around in the HFC building. I worked off line-of-sight which meant corners and doors were my biggest enemies.

 _More harm than good, huh._

Considering the alternative was everyone on the planet being mastered, Faullint was probably just being dramatic. Yet she did seem to think there was a downside. Panacea told Taylor that mastering didn't cure her withdrawal symptoms. Drinking blood did.

Why is this knowledge correlated with Taylor being more liberal with her abilities?

Before Panacea's reveal Taylor was of the mindset that she _had_ to use her master ability. There was no alternative. After her reveal Taylor did _not_ have to use it. She could live her life without ever mastering someone again.

 _So why is Taylor still mastering people?_

I stopped by the break room to grab a soda from the fridge.

 _Why didn't she stop?_

During the original negotiations we set a quota of five people per month. That was the limit. And there were a lot of rules the PRT dragged us through like how we couldn't pick random people up off the street and have them mastered. It had to be an enemy-combatant-type-thing or to save someone's life.

I had argued for the quota because the PRT was giving us an inch and I planned on taking a hundred thousand miles. But _Taylor,_ even going by my lead, had not wanted to use her ability. The quota was almost a formality. I had been confident Taylor would have no problem keeping to it.

Now I'm not so sure.

But she definitely didn't want to use her ability before Panacea revealed the truth.

"...right?" I asked aloud, opening the door to the stairwell. I was lost in my thoughts. _I'm confused._

Which meant I was wrong about something. The truth has a nasty habit of making perfect and utter sense once you know it. My confusion meant I was wrong about some detail. I needed to kill my assumptions, start over and only believe things if I could justify them.

Instead of walking down the hall, I leaned up against the wall and opened my soda. The crack of the can opening echoed a little bit.

 _It begins in April when Taylor first masters Emma. At some point Taylor came under the mistaken impression she and her thralls had to master someone every month. So over the next few months she prepares for the Red Sky incident, the purpose of which is to capture Panacea. That way she can remove the requirement that she and her thralls must master someone every month._

I took a sip of my drink.

 _At the very least this implies Taylor does not want herself and her thralls to be forced to master someone every month. But why not?_

The answer to that one was immediate. The end of the world, of course. Anyone in that position would come to the same conclusion. It was an exponential growth problem.

 _Duh._ Taylor didn't use her ability because using it is how the world would end. She _had_ to use it, but she used it as little as possible to delay the end of the world. She used her ability exactly as much as was necessary and nothing more. Because the world would end if she didn't.

 _And with that restriction gone so is the restriction on her ability._

I glanced towards Taylor's door at the end of the hall. It was really straightforward. That was a really straightforward explanation. It even _felt_ right.

But it implied that Taylor had no moral qualms about mastering people. That was the danger Faultline saw in her and warned me about. The double-edged sword of Panacea's words. Because of Panacea, Taylor no longer feared her own ability.

And so she used it.

I continued onwards and knocked on the door to Taylor's office. While it was important to keep my brain's copy of Taylor up to date, ultimately it didn't matter if she mastered people or not. Nor if she liked it or not. In fact it's probably better this way.

"Good afternoon," I said as I opened the door.

Taylor's office was the largest in the building by a factor of three. A giant mural of Brockton Bay's sunny beach was painted on the left wall, with a large couch along the right. Taylor sat down on it next to Bakuda. She tinkered with something in her lap while Taylor watched.

"Hi Madison," Taylor said. "Watch Bakuda make stuff with me. I can't follow it at all."

"That's a tinker thing isn't it?" I asked. "No one else can understand their work. That thing you had me put in the PRT building had Dragon completely stumped."

Taylor shrugged and leaned on Bakuda's shoulder. A pleasant smile came over Bakuda's face as she attacked her device with her screwdriver. I wandered over and sat down on Taylor's opposite side.

 _That's the other thin_ _g_ _._ This place was an echo chamber. Any thrall is going to tell Taylor they're happy and to make more and the only person who might _not_ tell her that—and whose opinion Taylor actually cared about—would be her dad. And I have no idea what their relationship is like.

"Taylor, would you save my life?" I asked.

She turned away from Bakuda and gave me a blank stare.

"If I was dying or dead, would you save me like you saved Spitfire?"

"Yes."

 _So fast!_ That was too fast, Taylor. She didn't even think about it. And the look she gave—as if I was an idiot for even thinking something else might happen. I'm confident I have her trust not to bite me in the neck while I sleep, maybe. But that's as far as it goes. I don't know why but I had thought—

—I had thought she didn't like controlling people.

"...I'm an idiot."

When I had the exact thought, phrased exactly like that, it was obviously false. My brain had somehow sorted Taylor into the category of "good" people. The type of person who doesn't want to rule the world and is fine living their daily life. Someone who will uphold justice and never kill.

But nothing Taylor has done actually _fits_ that image of her. I'm an idiot for sorting her into that category. It must have happened years ago when we were still in school and I never bothered looking into it.

"I'm still angry you know," Taylor said. There was a stab to it.

"You are?"

"I thought it would fade away. Especially with us allied like this and Emma as my thrall. I thought I would get over it. But sometimes I still remember that day. When you threw me into the locker sneering and laughing and you didn't have the slightest care of how you were torturing me. I could have died and you wouldn't even care. I still get angry about that, Madison. At you, Sophia and Emma."

Bakuda looked up, concerned. Taylor wrapped her arm around her. I might have to keep an eye on what Bakuda has been tinkering with.

"I can hurt Emma all I want, but it doesn't do me any good. She just takes it, apologizes and begs me to hit her even more. It doesn't exactly feel like revenge."

 _That was not a hypothetical,_ I realized. My heart beat faster in my chest.

"Attacking Sophia, on the other hand, would cause issues with the PRT. So I can't go after her."

 _Which leaves—_

"If I'm being honest, Madison? I really want to hurt you. I want to beat you until you beg me to stop, and then I want to see you cry when I don't. Because you never stopped when _I_ begged. I want to carve everything you did into me back into you."

Fuck. I put my hands in my lap and stared at them. "I've done nothing but obey," I said quietly.

"Yeah." Taylor took her left arm and draped it over my shoulders, pulling me close. Her wings shifted and trapped me in her embrace. I stared at the sunny mural on the opposite wall, ready to teleport if necessary.

'Sorry' wouldn't cut it. Even if I actually meant it, too much has happened. Taylor wouldn't believe it. She wanted to hurt me. Of course she did, we weren't friends or buddy-buddy. There was no way I could sit on this couch and just hang out.

"If you bite me, I'll be just like Emma." I said, unsure of whether it would be the right move.

"I know," Taylor said. She squeezed me tighter. "But it's not as simple as knocking you around. Even if you're right here next to me, you're basically untouchable. You're too useful to antagonize. Every day I wonder whether I should get it over with and just do it."

I knew it before we started any of this. Joining Taylor's side wouldn't make me safe from her, it would just change the game. In the flavor of keeping our enemies close, or something like that. Taylor likely had similar thoughts about me.

There had to be a way to turn this around. _Something._

"I heard a quote once about taking responsibility," I said. "It said to take responsibility means to take the pain unto yourself. To bear more pain than what others felt because of your mistakes. To repay ruined silverware with gold."

The room was silent.

"If I did something like that, would you forgive me?"

Taylor frowned. "I don't know. You and the others tortured me for a year and a half and nearly killed me. How could you take responsibility for a year and a half of torture?"

I didn't answer. I didn't _have_ an answer. But an "I don't know" is better than just a "no." I needed to make Taylor not hate me. I needed to take responsibility. I _must_ do that, I _have_ to do that.

Taylor already knew who I was. Lying would acomplish nothing.

"I hate myself for this," I said. "But I still can't apologize. The only lesson I learned from torturing you is not to antagonize people who might become parahumans one day. I'm the sort of broken person who can only think like that. All I can do is take responsibility like I said. I am unable to feel sorry for it."

Taylor didn't give me much of a response. Just a slight nod as if to say she already knew that. I couldn't think of any more words, but I couldn't leave. Taylor had me in her literal grasp, and teleporting away would be an act of disobedience.

She had to believe she still had control. For three months I'd managed to keep the status quo. I had to maintain it for a while longer, while I worked on Taylor's forgiveness.

I wanted to punch something. I should be better than this. There had to be something I could do to take responsibility and get in Taylor's good graces.

"By the way," I said. "Faultline wants to meet in about twenty minutes."

"Why?"

"A meeting."

Taylor groaned. I almost smiled. Taylor and I would never be friends, but anything I could do to be _friendly_ could only help me. For twenty minutes we sat there, watching Bakuda tinker. Taylor absentmindedly played with my hair.

Faultline's meeting started before I could come up with a way to take responsibility. Taylor and I entered together, leaving Bakuda behind. Besides the two of us, Faultline's whole crew was there along with Parian and some thralls whose names I didn't know.

We sat around a table as Faultline addressed us from the front of the room. Behind her she had pinned up a map of the city.

 _Oh god, I know what this is—_

"So I think we should start having regular state-of-the-company meetings, or something along those lines." Faultline said. "Maybe once a week or once every two weeks. Just to keep us all on the same page and so we know what everyone is working on."

I groaned. "I thought I got away from this sort of thing when I leftthe Wards."

Faultline grinned a sadistic smile. "Now now, what did you expect miss director-of-HFC? _You_ should be the one running these meetings anyways."

"Ugh."

"Any more objections?" No one responded. Out of fear, probably. "Good. Now then, we'll start with the map behind me and lay out territories and whatnot of our friendly neighborhood villains."

Unlike the PRT we did not have a big fancy television screen with cool graphics. Faultline was using nothing more than a large map, post-it-notes, thumb tacks and colored sharpies.

"The area I'm highlighting in blue here isn't anyone's territory. A cynical way of looking at it is it's the PRT's territory." Faultline circled in blue a large portion of downtown and the suburbs, stretching even a little into the trainyard. "The area in red is essentially our territory." Faultline proceeded to color in the docks and most of the trainyard red. "Technically we don't have territory, but I estimate HFC's sphere-of-influence stretches around here. In any case there's no gang activity."

So far most of the city had already been taken up. Which left the beaches area.

"The southern districts are still held by the Undersiders," Faultline said. "The Travelers have obeyed their namesake and left town. The Merchants are disbanded, the Empire is disbanded and the ABB is disbanded. Some of the old capes from those organizations are still around but they're not organized. The only real villain threat is the Undersiders."

"They've been in control of that area for months," Emily said. "I don't think the heroes are even trying."

Faultline shrugged. "The Undersiders aren't terrible. It's not worth it to go after them until they do something incredibly stupid."

"Not to mention," I said loudly, "they're controlling the shitty part of town."

"Can't say that in the Wards," Faultline joked. "Without Tattletale they aren't as effective as they once were. They haven't tried anything major in months but I'd rather not poke the bear. Just in case it really is still a bear."

"I wonder if they might not want to be villains anymore," Taylor said. It was an offhand remark but it gave the room pause. It was—no, I'm not going to call it _her_ type of solution. But it was an interesting thought.

"Do you think we could buy them out?" I asked.

Taylor shrugged. "I'm curious why they're still holding out as the last villains. I don't know much about them, but if it was about vengeance wouldn't they have done it by now? It's worth thinking about. I can imagine a situation where someone like the Teeth come in and try to overtake them. It would cause us loads of problems down the line."

I tapped my finger on the desk. "Wait," I said. "I'm sorry, this is completely unnecessary."

Faultline raised a brow. "Trying to get out of the meeting?"

I shook my head. "No, I mean talking about the Undersiders and whether or not the Teeth move in or someone else. It doesn't really matter, we all know what's going to happen in two months. It literally does not matter as long as we can sustain the status quo."

"Ah," Taylor said. "Assuming we don't stop that from happening."

"Are we trying to stop it?" I asked. "We've known about it for awhile now and aren't a hair closer to figuring out what's going to happen. Even if we all agreed to stop it there isn't anything to _do_ about it."

"If a way presents itself to stop it from happening, I'll do it." Taylor said. "But you're right. I'm completely clueless on what will actually happen."

Personally I'm going to assume the nine-in-ten chance will actually happen and large swaths of parahumans will be suddenly unpowered.

Faultline sighed. "I hate to say my investigation into it and its related matters are still at a standstill. Shamrock is pretty insistent it's a bad idea to go up to the PRT and ask them point-blank about any of it."

"Do you really think they know something?" I asked. "Calvert hasn't given me any indication he actually knows what's going on. Though he's pretty good."

"That's not... _quite_ what I meant. I actually meant the Protectorate. Sorry. I think Legend might know something. But the point is we have little progress."

Faultline was speaking about something I wasn't privy to, because a lot of people acted like they understood way more than they should have. I'll have to press them on that at some point.

"Moving on to less critical matters," Fautline continued, "Alexandria is still hanging over the city. I just want to remind us all of that because it might upset our precious status quo when she's free." She cut me a glance at that line. "In other news, the boat graveyard is around eighty-percent cleared out. And our deal went through for the warehouse around the corner."

A couple nods around the table.

Officially, Melanie Fitts was the CFO of the company. I didn't know the exact numbers for how much income and expenses we had but I knew HFC was turning a large profit. A typical Ward was given a 50,000 dollar stipend per year put into a trust and was also paid minimum wage. Which put a value of around 65,000 dollars on each Ward. A full Protectorate member on the other hand was worth around 80,000.

We would bring in about two million annually from that. And since they were thralls they didn't actually need a salary. Just living expenses. On paper they were nothing more than volunteers and no lawyer was going to fight us on that.

That was just the thralls we loaned out to the heroes. We still held onto Bakuda and Squealer and sold both of their creations to the PRT (or whoever else would buy them). That brought in just as much money if not more.

All of that would go up in smoke though the instant everyone lost their powers. It's hard to imagine whether or not the PRT would even exist.

"Should we adjourn?" Faultline asked.

"No," I said. "I want to plan for what happens after everyone loses their powers, should that happen. Dinah said Taylor keeps hers, which I assume means the thralls stay... thrally. But the entire world might change. Parahumans might be a thing of the past. The PRT is preparing for that eventuality. We need to as well."

Taylor stood up. "What do you mean, the PRT is preparing for that?"

"It's Calvert," I said. "He somehow wormed his way into Costa-Brown's seat and he's using the Red Sky incident as a reason to take the PRT in a different direction. There's new training, regulations and protocols he's putting into place. I've looked over some of them, not that they're public, but they're fairly frightening. He's completely intending that the Protectorate breaks down and the PRT has to stand on its own as—well, frankly, as what it was originally designed to be. Non-capes equipped and trained to take down capes."

"You say that like he knows what's going to happen."

"He _does_ know what's going to happen. He knew before any of us did."

"What?" Exclaimed more than one person in the room. Taylor was the one who followed up. "How long have you known that?"

"Since the negotiations."

"And you waited until _now_ to tell us?"

I gave Taylor my best glare and it was enough to give her pause. The entire room quieted down. All eyes were on me. The next words I leveled at her had to be precise.

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me what was on that flash drive," I said.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. There was a noticeable pause as someone tried to formulate a response. I earnestly had no idea what the importance was, but I'd noticed how they tiptoed around it. There was something substantial they were keeping me out of.

"It's not important," Faultline said.

"Come on," I said. "It's obviously important. We're all keeping secrets, don't blame me like I'm the bad guy in this. That Calvert knows what's going on isn't even the juiciest one in my arsenal."

Taylor slouched in her chair. "We didn't tell you because it's none of your business."

"I'm _making_ it my business."

Faultline and Taylor gave each other looks, then held up a finger towards me while they went and huddled in a corner obviously discussing what to do. I rolled my eyes at their little sidebar and watched everyone else in the room. Most of them looked uncomfortable—except Shamrock, as always, who was way too amused at what had happened. It looked like she was itching to say something.

It was her flash drive after all. If the sidebar doesn't resolve I can bother her about it.

"Fine," Faultline finally said. "You tell us what you know, and we'll tell you what we know."


	37. HFC 4-3

**4.3** **HFC**

We adjourned to Faultline's office. It was only Taylor, Faultline and me. She was in her chair, Taylor sat on a small couch to the side and I was in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of the desk. Her office here was similar to the one at the Palanquin.

"You first," Faultline said.

"Fine. Most of this I learned when Dinah came into the warehouse and I made that phone call. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"I had called Calvert to get Panacea's number. I tried to skirt around why but he correctly deduced exactly what had happened. That Dinah Alcott had escaped to us. He knew this because he was Coil, the person who originally hired you to kidnap her in the first place. And the person whom she escaped from. He told me that if Dinah was not in my possession he would remove her from play."

Faultline frowned. "He gave her to you?"

"No... I don't think so. I dug around and I'm pretty sure he 'rescued' her during the Red Sky incident. That action had a big influence on his election to chief director. I believe he fully intended her to join the Wards or something and to be able to use her in a more official capacity. But then she actually escaped and actually ran to us for help. He adapted to the situation."

"But that still gave him half a year to drag information out of her," Taylor said. "If that's true how did we manage to take over Brockton Bay so easily? Calvert should have known everything we were planning before we did."

I bit my lip. "I honestly don't know. It doesn't make sense to me. If Cavlert knew capes would become scarce I don't know why he would want to become the director of the entire PRT. In a world where capes are a thing of the past the PRT gets disbanded and he's left with nothing. I don't understand."

"I think I do," Faultline said. "But to confirm my suspicions we need to use Dinah."

"I don't want to make her use her power," I said. "She'll have to volunteer it."

"Of course."

Luckily Dinah was downstairs. She lived in the office, after all. I had on more than one occasion offered to take her back to her family and she always refused. I found her sitting in her room watching the television. She looked at me with knowing eyes and wordlessly followed me back to Faultline's office.

"No one will ask you a direct question," I said. "You can volunteer anything you want."

"I'm okay, Maddy." She said. "I want to do this."

Faultline led us back to the conference room where a bunch of our parahumans had been lined up. Once Faultline had double checked something or other she addressed Dinah and me. "Alright Dinah. If you would, please indicate who keeps and who loses their powers come Valentine's day. Those who keep them will move to the left side of the room, and those who lose them move to the right side of the room."

Dinah nodded and said she knew most of the answers already from when Calvert forced them out of her.

I lost mine and was shunted to the right. Taylor kept hers and went to the left.

Faultline, right. Shamrock, left. Spitfire, right. Gregor, left. Newter, left. Dinah, right. Bakuda, right. Squealer, right. Skidmark, right.

"This is only a small sample, but some of you should see the pattern," Faultline said looking at those who were keeping their powers. It was Taylor, Newter, Shamrock and Gregor.

All four of them wore shocked expressions on their faces, but I had absolutely no idea what was going on. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" I asked.

" _Cauldron_ ," Faultline answered, "is an organization that experiments with and sells superpowers. Gregor and Newter are case fifty-threes. They were experimented on by Cauldron. Shamrock purchased superpowers from them. And we have a strong suspicion Taylor is also a victim of Cauldron. On the other hand, no one on our side of the room has any known affiliation with them."

That was hard to believe. It was impossible to believe, but at the same time it made way too much sense not to believe. After all, people were going to lose their powers. It's not an absurd thought that they could be bought or induced. "Your guess is that people who get their powers naturally will lose them, and those who bought them or were given them forcefully will retain them."

"It is."

"I assume you have evidence Cauldron actually exists and actually does this."

"We do, though we would have had more if we had that flash drive. But testimony from Shamrock implies their existence and we have in our possession these superpowers-in-a-can."

"We have _what?"_ I asked. "We have—we can make parahumans?"

"Four. We could make four," Faultline said. "I know what's going in your head and no we have no idea how to possibly replicate it. We're not going to be able to pull off what Cauldron is doing and no one here _wants_ to."

Shot down before I could get a word out.

"Furthermore, we're certain that some members of the PRT or Protectorate or both are aware of its existence. Which is why the PRT wanted that flash drive back."

I sighed. "I have to admit I'm a bit miffed you kept all this from me. But since apparently there's a whole lot we were keeping from each other, I might as well say this: Alexandria was also ex-director Costa-Brown."

"...chief-director-of-the-PRT Costa-Brown?" Taylor asked.

"Yes."

"That's a really huge scandal," Faultline said. "Or it would be if it got out. Fuck, that actually makes sense. Did you—"

"Yes, as soon as I suspected I looked into it. No one confirmed it for me for obvious reasons, but I'm convinced it's the truth. Once you know what you're looking for all the facts fit together."

There was a moment of silence as we all tried to absorb everything we'd been told. Superpowers were bought and sold in secret by some group named Cauldron. And it's likely that only the "Cauldron capes" are the ones who will retain their powers. Whatever natural phenomenon causes people to trigger is going to stop and those of us who triggered will have our powers revoked.

Let's say it's Valentine's day. _Something_ happens and this revocation occurs. What happens immediately after is that, once news spreads, almost assuredly the villains who managed to retain their powers will start shit. Those who still have power will crush their enemies who lost it.

 _Unless_ Calvert knows exactly who will retain their powers and has his PRT agents shut them down hard before they can start anything at all. It would be a tremendous show of strength on his part. I'm sure that's his opening move.

The question that remains is what happens after the initial reaction settles down and the PRT keeps the world safe. A handful of heroes, a handful of villains. The culture wouldn't necessarily change but the infrastructure would. The PRT wouldn't need to be such a huge organization.

With only a few heroes left in America they would probably be assigned to a single unit that's designed to counter villains. Villains who would also be few in number.

The PRT would have no reason to exist. Or if it did remain, it would be some small little organization that had strike teams that could deploy whenever villains are discovered. Everything wouldn't be as open. It would be more secretive and elusive. Openly operating villains would be a thing of the past unless they were as strong as Taylor was.

But all of that restructuring would be on the order of months and years. Stuff would happen before that. After the initial reaction there would be a small grace period where people wondered if powers would come back and how to proceed. With the entire PRT at his disposal and ready to obey his command, what would Calvert do?

What would _I_ do?

"Fuck," I said aloud. Faultline and Taylor turned towards me.

"What is it?"

"I... I would invent a threat." I stared up at the ceiling. "If the heroes and villains are gone and there's only the PRT, its existence would be useless without a threat to fight. If I ran the PRT and I was in danger of being shut down because there's no more villains... I would invent villains to fight. I would invent _us_."

"Us?"

"HFC. When the Valentine's event happens and there's no more powers, we won't be necessary. We'll just be a group run by an overpowered master. To survive we'll have to be more aggressive. We'll have to throw away our cooperation and combat the PRT openly and without remorse. Calvert _wants_ us to do this. Which means he'll force us to."

"Without villains there's no heroes, is it?" Taylor asked. "So that there will be heroes, Calvert will make us the villains."

I nodded. The system will persist only because we will artificially continue it. The future Calvert wants is one of a civil war. Where he stands on the side of the heroes to fight against the blight that is Taylor and her thralls. And neither side will win. There will be just enough fighting so that both sides can validate their existence.

Taylor and Calvert will control the world. Something like that.

"You're forgetting something important, Madison." Taylor said.

"Am I?"

"The Endbringers. What if they're still around?"

I bit my lip. Fuck. I actually did forget that and it actually is important. If past Valentine's day the Endbringers still exist and there's no heroes to fight them, well, there's some naturally occurring villains right there. Except—

"It's generally assumed that the Endbringers have some sort of goal that's not killing people, right?" I asked.

Faultline nodded. "If that was their goal they could destroy this planet rather easily. We're lucky that's not their goal, but no one has any idea what their goal actually is. They're less lethal when fighting parahumans. Any PRT versus Endbringer scenario would end in disaster for us every time."

"In a world with only a handful of heroes it's impossible to say if anyone would bother fighting them in the first place."

"I'm sure some would," Faultline said. "And if Cauldron's goal is not to kill us all—which I don't think it is—they would probably provide enough parahumans to fight against them."

Taylor groaned. "So basically Calvert isn't sure what will happen, but has plans for both. Either the Endbringers will be his enemy and Cauldron will create enough capes to battle them, or _we_ will be his enemy." She put her face in her hands. "Who would have thought I'd root for the Endbringers to stick around."

If the Endbringers exist, Cauldron will continue making capes and the status quo will be sustained. The PRT will matter because capes will still be plentiful. Even if they're artificial. And Cauldron will be immensely powerful.

If the Endbringers don't exist, Calvert will prod us into becoming the villains. If we don't agree we'll be killed, so we'll become the villains. That's not necessarily a bad thing for me, but Taylor doesn't seem interested.

If the Valentine's event doesn't happen then the status quo remains and Calvert remains in control of the PRT.

I had to admire what he set up here.

"I think my theory is his contingency," I said. "Calvert probably assumes the Endbringers will stick around. And he'll work with Cauldron directly to control the cape population. That seems like the best outcome for him—controlling the PRT, Protectorate and the entire parahuman population."

The other options weren't as good. If HFC had to step onto the stage as the big bad villains it would be a little more forced. It might not work out quite as well.

Taylor and Faultline were in agreement. There was a pause while we exchanged glances before Taylor finally spoke up. "So what are we going to do about it?"

I shrugged. "Let's think about it. I'm kind of weary. Unless there were other secrets you want to share?"

There weren't. I didn't blame them for keeping things from me. Even really huge important world-changing things like Cauldron existing. I understood that there was no reason to share that with me until this moment.

What drew my fatigue wasn't that I was tricked or lied to. It was the magnitude of the content itself. A secret organization selling powers was one thing. The power they had at their fingertips was worrisome, but it wasn't the most troubling thing. What troubled me wasn't even the implication of them existing.

It was the prerequisite. _Superpowers could be bought and sold._

It didn't matter that I had no clue how this was true. I had no clue how powers worked, where they came from, or why triggers happened or _any_ of that stuff. But that glaring, neon-red fact:

Superpowers can be bought and sold.

Somehow it made them _real._ I didn't even realize this had been happening, but the culture of capes took powers for granted. These mysterious, ethereal "super powers" were handed down to us from on high when we needed them. Physics-defying abilities that let us act beyond what normal people could.

A lie.

A bold-faced lie that the public assumed was true. It was a lie I should have realized immediately. A lie I should have realized before I even got powers in the first place, a lie I should have—

—a lie I probably would have realized much earlier had I actually written that assignment for Gladly instead of stealing it from Taylor. I smiled at the cruelty. I suppose in some karmatic way I brought this too-late realization upon myself.

Physics was not limited in scope. _Physics_ did not put itself on pause so that we could use superpowers. Physics was omnipresent and encapsulated all of everything. Nothing defies physics. And the fact that I could teleport by myself of my own abilities meant one thing:

 _I could teleport by myself of my own abilities!_

The power was borrowed and would soon be taken away. But that didn't mean the power was gone forever. It was _something that was possible._ And it was Cauldron that was researching this possibility. Whatever other motives Cauldron may have, they were experimenting with powers and learning how they worked.

Calvert must be doing his best to worm his way into that organization.

And now I had to as well.

Once I was back in my own office I put my feet up on my desk. Dinah was here but she was playing a game on her phone. I watched her play the game for a minute without thinking about much. I'd only been at HFC for an hour and a half, maybe two, but I was already exhausted. I flipped on the television to watch some mindless program.

I muted a commercial and noticed Dinah was staring at me. "What is it?"

"Are you going to stop everyone losing their powers?" She asked.

"I dunno. Maybe. Today I've taken a thousand steps in the right direction." Though they were steps Faultline and Taylor had taken long ago. "I still don't know how powers work. If I could somehow contact Cauldron I might know but I have no idea how I would do that. My head is all befuddled."

"Want to play a game?"

I shrugged. "Sure. It'll get my mind off it."

"I'll go get some cards," Dinah exclaimed and trotted off. A game might be nice to clear my head. I needed to take a break and come back in a more organized manner. Right now I was mentally exhausted. An easy game against Dinah would be fine. It's not like she would use her powers or anything.

Such hopes were dashed when Shamrock came back with her. "I brought this person," Dinah said innocently. Shamrock gave me a wave.

"You can't play games without me, you know."

They pulled up chairs around my desk. My heart sank and I carefully cleared off some of the stuff around me. A game against Dinah would have been easy, but against _Shamrock_

She pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled. "We may as well start off with an easy one. Ever play Old Maid?"

"Of course."

Shamrock pulled out the face cards and shuffled them. "I don't feel like playing with the whole deck. Every round is just discarding a bunch of nonsense when there's so few people anyways."

"Sure."

"Also, if it's impossible for someone to draw a card the game ends right then and there. I don't like dragging things out pointlessly."

"Fine, whatever."

After shuffling only the face cards she dealt them out. There was still a little bit of initial discarding. "We'll do a little warm-up before we start betting," Shamrock said. Then she reached over to her left and grabbed one of Dinah's cards, discarding a pair.

I eyed everyone suspiciously as we drew and discarded. There didn't need to be a practice round for a game of Old Maid unless Dinah didn't understand the rules. But the game was simple enough. Whoever ended up with the joker as the last card lost.

With so few cards the end crept up on me faster than I thought it would. Shamrock had _two_ cards, Dinah _one_ , and I had _none_. Shamrock gave me a cruel smile as I reached towards her hand. She must have had the joker so her smile confused me.

I drew a queen, and then Shamrock took Dinah's card, and then Dinah took mine. No one discarded and the hands looked exactly as they did a round ago.

"Ah," I said. "I lost."

"Yeah." Shamrock confirmed. Unless I drew the joker the game would continue indefinitely. Since each time was a fifty-fifty chance it wouldn't be long before I eventually drew it. Instead of continuing Shamrock slid me the joker and then she took Dinah's queen and paired them off. "Now that you understand the basics, let's bet a little. How does ten thousand per hand sound?"

I coughed. "T-Ten thousand?" That was a ridiculous amount. I'm not betting that much on _Old Maid_ of all things. "I don't think Dinah has that much."

"I think a question from her is worth at least that much," Shamrock replied. "How about it Dinah? Want to wager a question a round?"

"Sure," Dinah said. _Damn you, Dinah._ Now I would look like the weak one if I didn't bet.

Shamrock's grin pissed me off. She looked down on me like some animal. "Fine," I said through gritted teeth.

"Excellent. Trust me, it'll be fun."

She shuffled and dealt the cards again. But there was something different this time. The joker was sitting in my hand but all I could do was stare. It was terrifying. It felt like poison in my hands. I had to get rid of it any way I could.

Luckily all the cards in my hand were literally touching _my hand_. So when Dinah reached out and tried to grab an innocent jack I swapped the cards with the joker with my ability. The color drained from her face when she took it. _Sorry Dinah, but I don't want to lose that much money._

Shamrock acted completely nonchalant, but this was her wheelhouse. There was no way she didn't read Dinah's obvious tell. Shamrock drew from Dinah, and Dinah's face brightened. _It's pretty obvious what's happening._

"Yay," Dinah said aloud.

 _Yeah._

Dinah drew something and paired it off and then I drew something and paired it off. And as soon as I put the cards down and looked up my heart sank. Shamrock had two cards and Dinah had one.

 _Fuck,_ I screamed inside my head.

"Fell for the same trick twice in a row, huh Madi?" Shamrock asked. "You usually present yourself as better than that."

My hand trembled as I grabbed the joker out of Shamrock's hand and lost twenty thousand dollars with it. Ten to Shamrock, ten to Dinah. Shamrock casually gathered up the cards again and shuffled. "W-Wait," I said. "I'm dealing."

She nodded and slid the cards over. I tried to calm myself as I shuffled the cards but it was hard. I had lost twenty thousand dollars in a minute. The people at Winslow would have killed for that much money. Hell some of them probably _had._

This time I was the one who dealt the cards out to everyone. For the third time in a row I started with the joker, but I silently accepted it. The last two games had taught me an important lesson. The loser wasn't the one who had the joker in the end.

It was the person who _had to take it away in the end._

I let the game go as it had before but this time I made sure to hold onto that joker. Even when Dinah reached out and was going to grab it I switched the cards and held onto it. This was the trap that Shamrock had laid in this game. The false idea that the old maid was poisonous.

When the game reached its completion my heart sank for a different reason. I had successfully set up the same situation Shamrock had to me, except it wasn't directed at Shamrock. I had put _Dinah_ in the loser's chair. I don't think she even understood that she'd lost until she drew the joker and I paired off the jacks and won.

Shamrock laughed. "Shouldn't you be happy at your victory, Madi?" She asked. "Or did you tunnel vision so hard on victory you didn't realize who would be hurt along the way? Guess you and Taylor have that one in common."

I bit my lip and handed the cards over to Dinah to shuffle and deal. I was down ten thousand, Dinah was down one question and Shamrock was up twenty thousand. But I had paid attention: it was always the person to the right of the dealer who lost.

 _This game might have no agency at all. Everything could be predetermined from the first go-around, like a game of Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo. Shamrock's been playing me from the start._

If she didn't think I would notice that then she's about to get a cruel lesson.

"Thank you," Shamrock said playfully as she grabbed a card from Dinah. She hadn't paired anything off. That brought it to my turn, where I drew the joker from Shamrock.

This was good. This was a good thing. What I needed in the end was for Dinah to end up with the joker. That way I could force Shamrock to take it away in the end and it would finally be her loss. It would bring the scores back to a tie.

However, Dinah wouldn't be willing to hold onto the joker. By how readable her face was Shamrock could easily grab it at will even without superpowers. She could just slide her fingers along Dinah's hand until her face brightened up.

So I would hold onto it _for_ her. Until there were only a few cards left. So I made sure she drew something else from me. She happened to pair it off, but that was the first one. Then I drew from Shamrock, paired it off, and she drew from Dinah and did nothing.

That left Dinah with only one card, but Shamrock still had tons. The game wasn't close to over yet. So I didn't give Dinah the joker. She paired off something else, leaving herself with an empty hand.

I reached over and was going to take something from Shamrock's hand, but her grin was malevolent.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Think about what's right in front of your face instead of ten steps ahead."

I scrunched my brow and tried to understand what she meant. I would draw from her, probably pair something off, and then she would...

...be unable to do anything.

"Fuck," I said. "Dinah has no cards."

"Yeah," Shamrock said with that grin. "She doesn't, does she? Here, take this. It doesn't really matter."

I wordlessly drew a card from Shamrock, then she put her hand down and shrugged without being able to do anything. She had said it at the beginning. If anyone was unable to draw the game ended right then and there. _And I'd stupidly held onto the fucking joker._

"...it was poison after all," I said softly.

Shamrock gathered up the cards but I stopped her.

"No, I'm done," I said. "I can't do this again."

I had already lost thirty thousand dollars. Thirty thousand dollars on a game of old maid. That was my mom's yearly salary, gone in ten minutes. It was cruel and unfair.

"You seemed to grasp the rules well enough," Shamrock said.

"Don't patronize me. I was taken in completely, right? The first two games you tricked me into thinking there was only one way to win. Since it was counter-intuitive I thought I was on to something. And the third game only confirmed my theory. This made me easy prey in the fourth game when I was fooled by how the game usually would go. Something I never should have fallen for if I hadn't been completely under your control."

"Huh?" Dinah asked. "Wasn't it just luck?"

I shook my head. "Not against this person. This "Sudden Death" Old Maid seems simple with simple rules, but against _this_ person nothing is that simple."

Shamrock leaned back in her chair. "You're right on all accounts. Did you know there's actually a rock-paper-scissors championship? A lot of people give it shit, but miraculously the same people end up in the finals year after year after year. Even a game with the most simple of rules can be mastered. And things that seem to be only luck are usually anything but."

I rose out of my chair. "I've had enough for today, I'm going home."

"One thing," Shamrock said. I turned back to stare at her. "Try thinking about _how_ I controlled the game. I'd like next time to be harder."

I responded with a grunt and left my own office. No one was going to say anything to me if I didn't work anymore today. It's not like I was an employee of some corporation, I was the _director_ of a soon-to-be mercenary empire. I could leave whenever I damn well pleased.

Stupid Shamrock.

I managed to make it home in time for dinner. It was a more rare occurrence than I would have liked. My family was all smiles as I joined them for the pot roast, talking about their days. My parents had jobs of which they made less than twenty dollars an hour. I didn't dare tell them what just happened in the past half hour.

Gambling is a game that makes you feel like a complete idiot.

"How was your day, sweetie?"

I took my time swallowing my bite. "Uneventful. A lot of talking, not a lot of doing." Though I have to hand it to Shamrock about one thing, I had completely forgotten all of that Cauldron nonsense. All I could think about is how stupid I was for losing that much money. That might have been a kindness on Shamrock's part but there was no way I would ever see it that way.

I choked on a carrot when I realized what Shamrock had _actually_ done. That last game Shamrock had ended up with a bunch of cards, completely going against how all three previous games had gone.

But it was weird. It was weird that she didn't discard anything even though there were only face cards in play. I couldn't verify it but at some point she must have _had a pair and just ignored it._ And if she was willing to do that she was probably cheating all over the place with her telekenisis.

Nothing to do about it now. When dinner was over I grabbed the box of thin mints I bought earlier and took them to my room. I had to somehow put Shamrock's stupid game out of my mind and focus on what really mattered.

There was still a lot to process from what I learned today, and getting some of it written down would let me see things more clearly. So I took my laptop to my room as well. Though the sheer danger of the information would demand me delete and shred anything I actually do write down. For good measure I disconnected my laptop from the internet.

At some point I fell asleep at my desk.


	38. HFC 4-4

**4.4** **HFC**

My head hurt. That pain clouded my senses for a few seconds, which were not sensing the warm silk sheets of my bed. It was a cold, hard, stone surface. Concrete.

Panic.

I tried not to move and peeked open my eyes. Somebody had taken me while I was asleep.

"Oh, she lives," said Taylor.

Okay, situation only half as bad as it used to be. I could see Taylor's boots in the corner of my vision, so it was safe to sit up. My head killed though. Enough to groan and put my fingers to my temples.

"H-How could you?" Exclaimed a voice I couldn't place. "You're not supposed to eat an entire sleeve of cookies in one night! You only get two for dessert, three if you were a good girl!" It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I recognized the girl who sold me those girl scout cookies. She was with that same man, standing on a raised dais on the other side of the... warehouse. Ugh. "That much relaxant could have killed you, you know!"

I groaned. "Taylor, why are you doing this to me _now?_ "

"I assure you things are a lot worse than you're imagining. Just look around."

I did. There were quite a lot of people here, now that I actually looked. It wasn't just Taylor and I, but Faultline as well. And over there was Tagg, Sophia and Velocity. And way on the other side of the room was Grue and Bitch and some other person whom I could only assume was Regent.

"Also, your hand." Taylor pointed. I looked at my hands. The left one was tattooed. I _definitely_ didn't have that before.

"What in the fucking hell is going on?"

"No swearing!" Shrieked the girl on the dais.

The man chuckled. "I suppose I should get to explaining, then. But we aren't even introduced. My dear Taylor, would you do us the honors? Or perhaps you, Faultline?"

Faultline clicked her tongue. "Jack Slash and Bonesaw. I thought you left town."

I froze. Jack Slash and Bonesaw. Slaughterhouse Nine Jack Slash and Bonesaw. They had come to my house in open daylight. Taylor was right, things were a lot worse than I imagined. And if there's a tattoo on my arm, it meant Bonesaw... did something...

"Did I ever say that?" Jack smiled. "We've been here all along. Watching, waiting, seeing what would happen to this city. I was rather pleased with the Red Sky incident, as you folks have taken to calling it, but I must admit my disappointment at its conclusion." He shrugged. "I thought Taylor would be able to take it all the way."

"So sorry," Taylor said through gritted teeth.

Jack Slash brushed off the venom in her words. "In the end, my only criticism is that you were not ruthless enough. Though saying that stains my lips. Such a cliché must be so expected of me, and I hate being expected. It's the truth though. A logical deduction. Your mistake was pursuing their surrender after you'd only taken out _most_ of their capes and _threaten_ _ed_ to master them. What you should have done was taken all of them, master all of them and then and only then let the heroes come crying to your feet for forgiveness."

"What you're saying," Taylor said, "is that because I failed to take over, you're back."

"It is true that, had you taken over the city, we would not be here. But that in by itself is not the reason. Like I said, we never actually left, and I still expected this city to change form. But I'm getting a bit impatient. It's been two months and nothing's moved. You and everyone else are just solidifying your fortifications." Jack crossed his arms. "It's boring."

I looked around at everyone on the floor. The leaders of HFC, the leaders of the Undersiders and the leaders of the PRT. In a manner of speaking, this warehouse contained the masters of Brockton Bay. Though I was amused the mayor was absent.

"So I thought that we could spice things up a little," Jack continued. "It all hinges on the nine of you here. You are the undisputed leaders of this city. Three teams, nine individuals. It's too many though, that's too many leaders. There should only be one leader, right? One master, one king, one emperor. Three is too much. So naturally I thought I would help you all resolve that."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Velocity shouted. "You think we're going to have some sort of death match here for your amusement?"

Jack just shook his head. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous. A leader cannot be determined by how strong they are. You see, I'm a firm believer in democracy." He spread his arms. Jack was, among other things, certainly dramatic. "Which is why I think we'll let the _people_ of this city determine their fate for once. We'll let the citizens determine who gets to hold the power, instead of people like me, or you, or the Endbringers, or whatever parahuman happens to have a convenient ability to master people at the time."

I imagine if anyone in this room actually thought letting the _people_ decide was a good idea, it would be Taylor or Velocity. But glancing at Taylor's expression quashed that notion.

There was silence among all nine of us. Jack took it in stride.

"Allow me to explain. Bonesaw here has taken the liberty of creating a little disease. It's nothing too serious, it just causes a tattoo to appear on your skin. It'll grow over the next two months until it covers your entire body. Once it spreads from your left hand all the way to your right, that's when you die. So there's a good indicator of how much time you have left. We've infected everyone in the city with it."

Even though no one said anything, the tone of the room shifted. I could guarantee that the Undersiders and the heroes recoiled in shock from the entire city being infected. However, for the three of us at HFC, Jack Slash said something far more worrisome.

 _Over the next two months._

That would land us exactly in mid-February. Our D-Day. Our no-more-super-powers-goodbye day. Our holy-shit-the-world-is-over-as-we-know-it day. But right now only three of us knew that. Only three of us in this room knew the severity of what might happen.

Not even Jack knew. Probably.

"Luckily there is a cure," Jack said, gesturing to Bonesaw. She held up three vials, one in her left and two in her right. One was blue, one was red and the other was white. "And don't worry, we plan on making them widely available. I'm good-natured, after all, how could I let this city die?" Jack shook his head in mock sadness. "But unfortunately there's a catch. See, of these three vials, only one of them will cure the virus. The others, sadly, will do nothing. But I'm not sure which one will be correct."

It wouldn't be that simple. A guessing game? Jack wouldn't drag all of us here for some uneventful one-in-three chance. There was something more. But no one said a damn word, we just stared.

He didn't continue.

"So," I said loudly. "How do we find out which one works?"

"Glad you asked, dear." He said with a spring in his step. "See, this cure works in a very specific way. It only works if the _majority_ of infected people also take it. That is, if sixty or seventy percent of people all take the blue cure, then they'll be saved. While the people who took the white and red cure will all die. So as long as everyone takes the same cure, everyone can be saved."

"This is the part," I continued, "where you say except for us, right?"

"Wow," Bonesaw said. "She totally knew what you were going to say next, Jack."

"That was the best part," he pouted. But it was all for show. It was impossible to tell what his actual emotions were, but I'm pretty sure he was having lots of fun. "Indeed. Or, should I say, you nine have already been infected-and-cured. The Undersiders, our white team, got the white cure. The heroes, our blue team, got the blue cure. And naturally the red team got the red cure. Well, er. Mostly."

And suddenly all eyes shifted towards Taylor.

"I tried," Bonesaw exclaimed. "I really did, but Jack you made the virus have all these weird specifications and I couldn't make it work with her and everyone else and and-"

"It's fine, it's fine." Jack said. "In the interest of fairness though, I've already had Taylor's father cured with the red vial. So she'll have a dog in this fight too."

Taylor's expression darkened.

"Those are the rules for this game," Jack concluded. "Any questions?"

"Are there any grounds for disqualification?" I asked. Jack gave me a look. "For example," I elaborated, "If Panacea outdoes you and cures your disease, will you pout, say it wasn't fair and try something again? Or will you accept that you lost?"

"Hey," Tagg shouted. "Don't ask them that."

"Oh please, there's no way they didn't take Panacea counter-measures. My question stands."

Jack seemed pleased. He was probably happy to have someone willing to converse with him. "There's nothing like that. The game's begun and however you want to solve it is up to you." He laughed. "But if you're praying on a miracle cure you may find yourself empty-handed in your final days."

That was expected. Panacea's biggest and public weakness was her inability to effect brains. Since Bonesaw did not have that restriction it would be easy to create some sort of infection rooted in the brain. I didn't know anything about physiology, but that general idea seemed viable.

I've heard of something called prions, but not much more than their name.

"Anything else? Is Madison the only one with questions about this terribly important game?"

"Can people switch cures after they've taken one?" Faultline asked. Apparently HFC are the only people brave enough to open their mouths.

Jack shook his head. "Nope. First one you take is the one you're stuck with."

"Is the disease really limited to Brockton Bay?" Grue shouted out. Ah, good, a compatriot. "People move around a lot."

"Nope nope nope," Bonesaw said. "Everyone who lives here got infected, but it won't spread anymore. Even if someone leaves that won't cure it. Similarly, people who come won't be effected either."

That's good to know. Jack asked if there were any more questions, and I looked around the room to gauge what people's feelings were. But I couldn't come to any conclusions in the dark warehouse.

"Then, allow me to—"

"Wait," I interrupted. Jack looked off put, but gestured to me. "It's a game, right? So what's the prize for winning? We're putting the lives of an entire city on the line, surely there's a reward."

A soft laugh escaped Sophia's lips, but she held her tongue. "My my," said Jack. "Is surviving not enough? Is taking over the city not enough?"

"Some of us were planning on doing that anyways," I countered. "On our own time. Others of us don't want that in the first place. It's not a game if we aren't trying to win. It's just more stupid shit that happens to this city we have to survive through. Plus, the winner doesn't even _get_ that. Sure, if the Undersiders die their territory undoubtedly falls. But—" I pointed to Tagg and the heroes. " _these_ three are replaceable. And you just said Taylor isn't affected, so _our_ side will live on even through defeat. There's no prize. Frankly, Jack, _who cares?_ "

It may have been my imagination, but for a moment I thought his expression cracked. "What audacity," he said. "I thought you were smarter than that, girl. Do you want to be handed a big pile of cash? Don't make me laugh. I've set up the rules to this game so you can take your own prize. If you play it heroically, you'll save your city and walk away with the status quo. Play it ruthless and you can take everything. It's not up to me, it's up to _you._ "

Sophia cackled. "I wouldn't take it personally," she said between laughs. "Madison's always like that. Give her an inch and she'll shove a crowbar in it and steal everything you own."

Jack smiled again. "Is that so?"

I thought about what to say. What to try to drag out of Jack and Bonesaw while they were still here. How to manipulate this. They proposed a simple game with simple rules. Three teams and whoever can cure the most people with their specific vaccine wins.

It's as Jack said. Playing it ruthless could get us the entire city. Playing it heroic will probably end up with a lot of people dead, but the status quo preserved. But if there's anything Shamrock taught me yesterday it's that a game like this will be anything but simple.

That's pretty coincidental, actually—

 _Fuck, Shamrock is a precog. Did she know?_

But Faultline had said her power was _weak!_ Her precognition only worked on the level of a few seconds. There's no way she could foresee what would be happening now, six hours later.

My blood ran cold. _It wasn't Shamrock who asked to play a game with me._

"She knew," I growled under my breath. It was **Dinah** who asked to play a game with me.

She knew _._ She _knew_ this would happen and she let me wander back home none the wiser. My hands shook and I formed them into fists. After everything I did her, _this_ is how she repays me? Not even _warning_ me that this was about to happen? I poured myself into her, vowed to protect her forever and really tried to be her friend. I was her fucking older sister and she let me walk into the Slaughterhouse Nine's trap.

The _Slaughterhouse Nine_ of all people. _That fucking slut, I'll slit her fucking throat._

"Madison," Taylor said sharply. "What are you doing?"

I spun towards her. "What?" I asked.

"Dear," shouted Jack, "You looked ready to murder everyone in this room. Not that you could, but you looked ready to _try._ "

"Ah—."

Shit on me, I telegraphed my emotions that poorly.

"Sorry," I said. "I just realized someone I need to... talk with later." I shook my head. "I concede my point."

"That sounds like quite a conversation someone's in for," Jack said. I didn't respond. "If there are no other questions, we'll leave you to it."

Jack snapped his fingers and a figure shot through the window, grabbed both he and Bonesaw and flew out again. It happened too fast to be able to react. Within seconds the Nine were gone, and that left only the nine of _us._

The silence was awkward. There was definitely something that needed to be said, but it was hard to bring it up. I wasn't in a position to. All I could think about was how Dinah betrayed me.

"So, uh," Taylor started. "The obvious thing to at least _try_ is Panacea."

"Yes," Velocity followed up. "But Jack seemed convinced it wouldn't help. Panacea can't touch brains so it's likely a brain infection."

Taylor shrugged. "Sure, but can Panacea really not affect brains? It seems weird to me that she can affect every part of the body _except_ that. It doesn't make sense."

Velocity shook his head. "A lot of people died because of that limitation. I don't think she would have let that happen."

"I agree with him," I said. I took a deep breath. Getting angry wouldn't be productive right now. "It's due to the Manton Effect, probably. The Manton Effect prevents powers from hurting people directly, but people aren't their bodies. People are brains. So Panacea probably can't actually directly affect the 'person' inside our bodies."

"I guess that makes sense." Taylor sighed. "But Bonesaw has no problem doing that..."

"The question is what happens when Panacea can't do anything. I assume there's other healers the PRT could reach out to, but if none of them can out-do Bonesaw, _then_ what?"

The question hung in the air. The logic flowed naturally and it was clear what Jack Slash thought would happen. If there was no other way than Bonesaw's specially-made cure then we would have to use it. But—

"We just need to agree on a color to use," Velocity said. "And fully stand behind it."

Sophia and Tagg both snorted at Velocity's suggestion. "Alright," I said. "So then... which color?"

"If it means saving the entire city, I would sacrifice myself in a heartbeat."

I nodded. "That's noble of you, Velocity, but you're the only person here who is that good of a person. _I_ certainly wouldn't. The Undersiders won't—I'm assuming—and I know that Stalker isn't the type to roll over and die for someone else's sake. Even if she is a so-called hero."

Just because Tagg pisses me off doesn't mean he doesn't have any noble self-sacrificing bones in his body. He may be willing, but _Sophia_ one hundred percent won't. And the Undersiders won't give in. And _we_ certainly won't give in. There's no way two out of the three groups here would decide to sacrifice themselves.

The cheat-code here was Taylor. Though Taylor's ability wasn't an easy thing to use, Bonesaw already admitted the infection doesn't affect her. And by extension it won't affect her thralls. Which means we don't need two-out-of-three sides to _die._ We need two-out-of-three sides willing to be mastered by Taylor.

I didn't say that. I stayed silent since I doubted anyone else even _considered_ that possibility. "We have time," Tagg said. "Let's use it. Don't do anything rash. Even if we do end up fighting we have to keep the civilians out of it. If by some chance Panacea actually can help then there's no reason for us to go at each other's throats."

"I agree," Taylor said. "In fact, we should agree to that before anything else. Jack clearly wants the entire city in an uproar and panic. But all that _really_ needs to happen is for us here need to settle a dispute. There's no reason to drag the whole city into it."

I know Taylor and Tagg were only saying what came naturally, but it was a brilliant move from a strategic standpoint. There was no way anyone could disagree with it. If they did they would instantly be labeled an evil piece of shit and probably be killed in secret.

Grue, Taylor and Tagg shook hands on that deal.

"To start," Faultline said, "we need to keep the citizens informed and tell them to not take any of the antidotes yet."

The first side to break this deal of ours would become blackened. If the Undersiders started pushing the white cure, the PRT and us could team up to wipe them out. And the same if the PRT made a move. Or us, I suppose, but I'm not sure we're so easily take-out-able.

Still, the projected path of this game was clear: if no other alternatives presented themselves we would go at each other's throats. It was a two-front war. On one side, convincing the populace of our superiority and the other side the elimination of the competition.

Tagg and Velocity would be easy targets. Sophia would be moderately difficult but not impossible. Regent and Bitch would be easy. Grue moderate.

If those six other people died, convincing the civilians would be a lot easier. No one would have a _reason_ to push a different colored cure.

"We need to think about what to do," said Grue. "We should meet at Somer's Rock tomorrow night after we discuss things with our teams and Panacea tries to cure us."

There was mutual agreement again. I wanted to get out of this warehouse so I didn't drag it on any longer. We all agreed not to do anything rash and simply meet tomorrow evening to discuss things.

Faultline, Taylor and I walked back to the HFC complex. Brockton Bay wasn't exactly safe at night, but no one would fuck with us. _We_ were the dangerous people prowling about.

"This fucking figures," Taylor said once we were alone. "I was never clear why Jack had let me go. He clearly expected me to actually take over Brockton Bay and be the next Nilbog or something. With thralls instead of whatever Nilbog does to people."

I stared at the street ahead of me. "I know we're trying to play nice, but the quickest way to end this is to kill all six of the others over the next few hours and calmly explain without opposition for everyone to take the red pill. The consequences would be devastating with our relation to the heroes though."

"On the other hand, we could be attacked and no one would care." Faultline offered. "Same with the Undersiders. I don't think the PRT will attack us and risk losing all the heroes we contracted out, but the Undersiders have no such concern."

I recalled what the Undersiders had done to me months prior. "The Undersiders need to be killed," I said. "All of them."

"We literally agreed ten minutes ago not to do anything rash," Faultline said. "And now you want to kill all the Undersiders?"

"Madison, considering how angry you got back in there I'm taking your plans with a grain of salt," Taylor said. "What was up with that?"

I formed my hands into fists again. "Dinah," I said coldly. "She knew this would happen."

"That's because she's a precog," Faultline said.

"No, I mean—" I groaned. "She knew I was going to be kidnapped by the Slaughterhouse Nine and didn't even warn me. She's trying to get me killed despite everything I've done for her."

"Please," Taylor said. "You were manipulating her. She probably caught on."

"But I was still helping her." I shoved my fist into my pocket. "Bitch. I didn't even do anything to her. _You're_ the ones who kidnapped her."

Apparently this caused the conversation to die and an awkward silence took over. It was unintentional but I may have brought up a painful memory for Taylor. If my model of her was at all accurate she probably wasn't on board with kidnapping a little girl back in April.

The silence gave me time to organize my thoughts.

"The Undersiders," I said, "have to know they're the underdogs in this fight. Right now we're hanging on the excuse of waiting for Panacea to look into the infection. It's an excuse so we don't have to do anything but pretty soon Panacea is going to tell us she's useless. And the PRT will say they have other healers they're trying, but they will also be useless. The Undersiders will make their move swiftly after this grace period. Their best chance of survival is to take out the three of us and the PRT team."

"They don't have the capability of taking me out," Taylor said after a moment. "Why would they even try?"

"Because even if it earned your animosity there would be no reason to actually push for the red cure anymore. If me, Faultline and your dad were killed—yes you would want revenge. But were I in the Undersiders' shoes I would do it anyways. It's a better result than being killed by Bonesaw's disease."

The Undersiders are going to make the first move. The PRT wouldn't. The greater global politics would get in the way. If the PRT made a move against us we would simply pull the heroes we contracted to them. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough that villains across the country would take advantage of the sudden power loss of the good guys.

This would stay the PRT's hand. Not to mention I doubt Calvert had any interest in preserving the Brockton Bay PRT in the first place. If I made a real move to take over the city... well, if I was right about his motivations then Calvert would let me.

"Taylor, let me ask you a question," I said. "You said Jack wanted you to turn Brockton Bay into some sort of thrall slave city a la Nilbog?"

"I assume so."

"What are you thoughts on actually doing something like that?"

Both Taylor and Faultline stopped in their tracks. I had to turn around. "Woah woah here," Faultline said. "Are you seriously suggesting that?"

"It's an option," I said. "This city is infected. One escape route is for you to turn every infected individual into a thrall. It will save their lives."

Taylor shook her head. "And complete destruction of any sort of peaceful relations with anyone else in the entire world. Brockton Bay would be quarantined and we'd be cut off from society."

"So would Brockton Bay's death be a better alternative?"

"That's not fair," Taylor said.

I shrugged. "Let's leave it as something to think about." We were almost back to the HFC complex anyways. The sun would peek over the horizon soon so Taylor would retreat into the building for the day.

Emma was waiting for us outside of the main building. When she saw us approach she ran towards Taylor and tackled her in a large huge. "Master, you're back." She exclaimed. Taylor accepted the hug without a word and let Emma retreat to her side.

Faultline and I followed Taylor's lead and went into the dorms through the side entrance. Unlike any normal place on Earth, this was the time when everyone was awake and active. The clock on the wall read the time as four o'clock .

The dorms were mostly empty. The thralls that weren't contracted to the PRT worked under Bakuda in her lab or Squealer in the garage, which for various reasons were separate buildings.

"We need to gather everyone," Faultline said, "and come up with a plan. While Madison's suggestion was on the extreme side, I agree we should consider every possible situation."

Taylor nodded and patted Emma on the shoulder. "Get Bakuda and Squealer."

Emma smiled, nodded and trotted off. "I'll get the others," Faultline said. "Is there a phone somewhere in here?"

"I'm going to go to my office for a bit," I said. "Meet in the conference room?"

"Yeah."

I turned to open the door to the stairs. The dorms took up most of the first floor but the second floor was office space and the canteen. When I reached out for the doorknob it spun by itself and the door swung open. Dinah looked up at me and froze.

For a moment neither of us looked like we knew what was about to happen. Then I saw her spin around to try to run. I grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. " _Dinah_ _,"_ I roared. She screamed from the force I hit her with.

"Madison," Taylor shouted. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"You _knew."_ I pinned Dinah against the wall. "You knew and you did _nothing."_

Dinah closed her eyes and turned her head away from me. "It hurts," she exclaimed.

"You fucking led me right into the lion's den." I grabbed her face with my hand and forced her to look at me. There were tears coming out of her eyes. "I was dragged out of my house in the middle of the night by the Slaughterhouse Nine. And you knew? You fucking knew?"

I could see Taylor in the corner of my vision and Faultline on my other side. They knew they couldn't interfere but they still closed in. It didn't matter.

"I was nice to you," I shouted. "I tried to help you. Be your big sister. I honestly tried to protect you Dinah, and this is what I get in return? You tried to get me _killed?_ Well fuck you."

I let go of her face and clutched my hand around Dinah's throat instead. She was just a little girl. It was easy. It would be so easy. I squeezed just a little and she already started making choking noises.

"Madison, stop." Taylor shouted. "You're going too far."

Dinah struggled in my grasp. Her hands came up and tried to pry open my grip, but she was too weak. "Stop?" I asked. "This is basically self-defense."

"It could be a misunderstanding. You don't know what she was thinking. So stop."

I had to fight the urge to squeeze harder. If I did it would ruin everything, so the right choice was obvious, but I still had to fight it. Dinah was a side project. Keeping the status quo with Taylor trumped anything else.

I let go of Dinah's neck. She crumpled to the ground and started gasping for air, holding her throat.

"Calvert was right," I said quietly. "You're more trouble than you're worth. It'll be easier to lock you up and use you as needed."

My hands shook as Dinah started crying. This didn't make any fucking sense. She only saw things in probabilities, but was my death really worth this alternative? We slid into the unlikely future of Dinah ending up with nothing. She should have seen this coming.

It wasn't a matter of her being just a kid. She was smarter than that. She'd _demonstrated_ being smarter than that.

I didn't make sense. It didn't make any fucking sense.

"You should just bite her," I said to Taylor. Without waiting for a response I pushed past Faultline into the stairwell and stormed off to my office. Once I was there I slammed the door and locked it.

I couldn't make it any farther and slid down the door onto the ground. I reached up and wiped the tears away from my eyes.

The floor was cold.


	39. HFC 4-5

**4.5 HFC**

"You should apologize," said Missy. She gently combed my hair and after everything I'd told her she uttered that like it was obvious.

"That would piss Taylor off endlessly," I said. "One of the reasons she hates me is I never apologized."

Missy laughed. _Laughed._

"Hey!" I said.

"Sorry, sorry. You're one of those people that thinks saying sorry is stupid, right? That if you wanna actually apologize, you should do something to make it better." Missy ran the brush down my hair again. We were in my room, several hours after what I had done to Dinah. After pulling myself together I had left HFC.

The strategy meeting was pointless anyways, I already knew what I had to do. They could get on without me. "Yes. Because that's—"

"Stuuuupid," Missy said. "You're just scared. Sure, making it right is fine, but that's not a reason to _not apologize._ What you really need to do is say you're sorry _and_ make it right."

I sat there in silence while Missy continued brushing my hair. That hurt a lot more than I thought it would. If Missy could see the expression I must have been wearing I'm sure she would smile.

Taking responsibility. I had given Taylor a speech like that instead of just getting down on my knees and saying I'm sorry over and over again. But Missy was totally right. The only reason I didn't say I was sorry was so I didn't show any weakness.

Maybe that wasn't even it. Maybe that was just a justification. Maybe I was unwilling to admit I was actually wrong about something.

But I still _felt_ in the right with Dinah. I had shown her nothing but love and she betrayed me. That I spared her life should be seen as heroic. An unbelievable amount of restraint. Dinah should be apologizing to _me._ That's what it felt like.

"She betrayed me though," I said.

"Sure, but it's not like you made a decision to take revenge or anything. It wasn't some plan of yours you could justify with logic. You were just really sad and angry and let your emotions take over. Right?"

I didn't respond right away and let Missy keep brushing my hair. "Were you always this good at understanding people?" I asked.

"I ended Red Sky, didn't I?"

I smiled but didn't laugh. She was right again. It wasn't some plan, I was just angry. Irrationally angry. It wasn't even clear why I was so angry that Dinah betrayed me.

"But..." Missy said quietly. She stopped brushing. "I don't know what that's like. To be betrayed by someone you love. It's probably a really horrible feeling. No one could hold back if something like that happened to them."

"No," I said. "There is someone who can. It's what happened to Taylor."

Missy wouldn't know the details about that one, but it was true. Emma was the one who betrayed Taylor and for a year and a half Taylor had simply bore it. This might have been what Taylor felt. Maybe it's what she was still feeling every time we passed each other in the hallway.

Missy leaned up against my back and draped her arms around me. "Feeling guilty?"

"She told me she still hated me," I replied. "Taylor hates me, Dinah tried to kill me... does that make you next?"

"Naw," Missy said. "I actually like you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Missy paused for a moment and let go of me, falling onto her back. She rested her head against one of my pillows. "I think Taylor only _tolerates_ you. And Dinah prolly just hangs out with you for safety, right? Otherwise she would go back home. The only person who actually seems like your friend besides me is Sophia. Although she has her own problems."

Taylor definitely only tolerated me, but that was nothing new. What she said about Dinah rung true as well despite how hard I tried to be nice. But it still led to an important question. "Why exactly do you actually like me, then?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes, actually." I said bluntly. Normally it's not a question you ever ask. If someone decides to be your friend you accept it. You don't question the connection. But the world was different now and betrayal could be behind every corner.

When I was desperate and needed it I didn't question why Missy went through so much to help me out. She exposed herself and went right into Taylor's lair for my sake. She threw heroism to the wind and left the PRT for me. But it didn't make any sense _why._

"This was a while back," I said. "We were on my first patrol and Taylor ambushed us. Do you remember?"

She nodded.

"Back then, when Taylor revealed that I had triggered her, I had thought it was over for me. And especially after the debrief. Any chance I had of making friends in the Wards was destroyed. I would be isolated and powerless. And since then I haven't done anything you should admire me for. I killed Tattletale, planted a bomb in the PRT, tried to throw Rune into Sundancer's sun and all of that pales to what happened during the Red Sky incident. What exactly have I done that would make you, who's seen me at my worst, still like me?"

"The reasons."

I stared at her, and Missy rolled her eyes.

"Come on, you're trying to make yourself out to be some sort of hard core anti-hero. But you're not. Sure, before Behemoth I thought you were actually really horrible. But after... well, I started questioning why you did what you did. And it made a lot of sense. Like, right from the start when you didn't tell us what you did to Taylor even though we all knew what you did. Why didn't you admit it? I asked myself that, but didn't really figure out the answer until a lot later. Sophia was your friend, and she was on probation. If you admitted it she could have been put in jail."

I didn't know anyone realized that.

"And come on, the bomb thing is stupid. Taylor forced you into it obviously, and the only reason you did it was to get Tattletale away from her. If Taylor bit Tattletale we basically would have lost Brockton Bay. It also explains why you... you know. As for—"

"You can stop," I said, my hands in fists on my thighs. It was hard to control their shaking.

"I felt really guilty." Missy continued. "I abandoned you on your patrol and the Undersiders beat you up. That's about the time I started thinking of all this."

I nodded. Missy must have seen something in my eyes because she sat back up and hugged me tight. This must be what having an actual friend is like. Not someone like Sophia or Emma who were superficial at best. An actual friend who actually cared what happened to you.

I returned the hug.

"Since we're being all serious anyways," Missy said softly, "can you tell me what I'm supposed to do about this tattoo on my hand?"

I leaned my head against Missy's shoulder. "I don't know yet."

"I don't believe you."

"You're ruining the mood."

"It's kind of important."

We broke away from each other. "Fine," I said. "I know what I _have_ to do, I just have no idea how to do it."

Missy grabbed one of my pillows and hugged it to her chest before falling back onto her back. "What do you _have_ to do?"

I didn't answer immediately. While I didn't know the first thing about the actual military or intelligence or any of that, it seemed like common sense that you didn't tell your plans to people who didn't need to know. If Missy and I were actual friends, no—even if we were that, it shouldn't supersede something as important as keeping HFC's operational secrets.

Though the actual plan wasn't even known to Faultline or Taylor, so it wasn't technically HFC-related.

I got up off the bed and looked out my window at the snow. My dad was in the driveway shoveling it out of the way so he could drive his car. The Christmas lights blinked on and off randomly around our house, painting the white ground in color.

"I won't tell anybody," Missy insisted.

I sighed. "What do you know about how the game works?"

"Only what it said on the pamphlet."

Jack had helpfully distributed pamphlets all over the city explaining the rules.

"Only the majority cure would work and everyone else would die." Missy said. "And we should take the cure corresponding to who we are willing to let lead us or whatever it said. I'm guessing all of that is baloney because the obvious solution is to have everyone take the same cure."

"Yeah." I said. "The rub is that Faultline, Taylor's dad and I have already had the red cure. Sophia, Tagg and Velocity already had the blue one. The Undersiders all already had the white one. This isn't a game of save-the-people, it's a game of us nine trying to save our own teams."

"That's mean."

 _Brilliant conclusion there, Missy. It's the Slaughterhouse Nine, of course it's mean._ Plus, with the exception of Velocity, no one is willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. All of us are more than willing to put our own lives ahead of those of the others.

The solution was simple: the game had to end before the others realized it. This hinged on the others believing once the game _actually started_ it would be nothing more than a popularity contest. The moves to make were doing things like community service or spending loads of money to appease the public.

That was how the game would run its natural course. But it had to be over before that. That all had to be a _formality,_ a mere trifle we had to sift through before we all realized who had _actually_ won.

Brockton Bay needed to be cured by the red cure and nobody could be aware that it happened.

A person was cured when they ingested around a tablespoon of the red cure. All of the noise about democracy and the rules to the game were nothing but nonsense. At its core the way to win the game wasn't to please the people. It was to control them without them realizing.

But that left the issue of how to trick an entire city into ingesting a tablespoon of red liquid.

"If I tell you what has to be done, will you hate me? It's really horrible."

"Please tell me."

I bit my lip and told her. I told her that I was going to impose my will on an entire city and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Why did you say that's horrible?" Missy asked. "Isn't that the best possible outcome?"

"What?"

"If you _didn't_ have a crushing victory at the very start, the worst could happen and the city could be split three ways. Tens of thousands of people could die if you all played fairly. But winning right at the start, without anyone realizing... everyone can be saved, right?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Of course you didn't, you're too busy trying to be _cool_ and _edgy."_

I growled. "Point is I still don't know how to do that."

There were a lot of thoughts that went through my mind, but they all seemed way too grand. Contaminate the water supply was an option. But I don't know how much of the red cure I would need so it didn't get diluted. Another was to spike some of the staple foods and drinks. Like milk. Walk down the aisle of a supermarket and teleport the cure into all the bottles of milk.

It felt forced. And I'm not sure it would work. Families share cartons of milk, plus our cure is red. It would change the color.

There were red foods and drinks. Juices and wine. But the scale was too big. There were over _a hundred thousand people_ in Brockton Bay. How much manpower would it take to be able to discretely carry out a plan like that?

The answer was too much. The slightest screw up could give it all away.

It wouldn't work. And if it really was that easy to poison an entire city it probably would have happened earlier at some point.

"The only feasible thought is to have some sort of food drive," I said. "Where we give away food in the name of charity. But right after this game started it would basically be a big neon sign that we're trying to trick people into taking the cure."

Vista sat there quietly. I ran through all the old thoughts again, but they were just as impossible as they were before. This is what happened when I couldn't think of any new ideas. I kept thinking of the old ideas again and trying to make them work.

"It's Christmas," Missy said.

"Well, not for a week, but what of it?"

"No, I mean—wow, I guess you were never the giving type, huh?"

"My family just tells each other what we want and we all buy it for each other."

"It's _Christmas,_ " Missy repeated.

It took a little while for the thought to click. But then—

 _Oh. It's Christmas._

"Missy you're a freaking genius," I said.

What did literally everyone do during the holiday season? The answer was _donate._ People gave away things they didn't need, gave to charity, bought toys for tots and ran canned food drives. People did things like give out free food all the time during this time of the year.

The gears all started slotting into place.

The game was to appease to the public, so naturally HFC would _hold a large-scale donation drive_ where we would give out staple items to anyone who needed it. Not just food, we could give away blankets and heaters and task Bakuda and Kid Win and Squealer to whip up some useful tinker-tech to give away.

HFC had funds to draw on to easily run a large charity event. And, of course, during the event there would be food. Because that's what people needed most—staple food items like milk and bread and coffee and clean water and all of that. And if that was merely part of a bigger whole, if those staple food items were just another little part of our massive donation drive—

—the truth would be properly masked. No one would suspect the food was spiked.

Because the idea of the game was already implanted in everyone's minds. The game wasn't to trick people into taking the cure, it was to convince them of taking it of their own accord. And that's what it would look like we were doing.

It was perfect.

This was what plans were supposed to be like. Elegant and perfect. Under the mask of playing Jack's game, HFC would stack the deck and win before anyone else even drew their cards.

There was only one problem.

"I'm having a hard time bringing myself to go back to HFC right now," I told Missy.

"It's best to say you're sorry quickly. Don't put it off for no reason."

"But what if I get angry at her again? I may have already really hurt her."

Missy didn't have an immediate response to that. That was the uniqueness of the situation at work—someone like Taylor or Faultline couldn't wrestle me away. That's why they had stood by and watched me nearly choke Dinah to death. If they had touched me I could have moved them away. It was pointless.

"Why am I so upset over this?" I asked. "I don't know if I've ever been that angry."

"You liked her, silly."

"I like lots of people. I never would have done that if they betrayed me."

Missy shook her head. "You helped Dinah a lot, right? You let her live in your office, made her meals, went out with her and even played with her. And to thank you she let you get kidnapped by the Nine. Please tell me you understand that's why you're angry. You know you liked her, right?"

I nodded.

A cold draft wafted through the door. If I wasn't debating heading back to the office right now I would turn the heater up. But power wasn't something to waste needlessly here in Brockton Bay, even though my family could _easily_ afford it now.

"Can I come with you?" Missy asked.

"I'd like that." I let myself fall down next to Missy on my bed. We both stared up at the ceiling. It had been properly patched up and no longer leaked, but the ceiling was discolored from the water damage. Reminders of how the Clements used to live. How this city used to be.

It was still pretty shitty. Just less terrible than it was two months prior. Red Sky had been the last real fighting of any parahuman nature in Brockton Bay. Any villains besides the Undersiders have either skipped town or are keeping low.

"Hey Madi," said Vista. "Since Dinah hates you now can I be your official side-kick?"

"Wow. You don't hold back."

She smiled. I spun my head to look her in the eyes. "Is that an actual request?" I asked. "Because I'm not sure you would like it at HFC all that much. We're not very, ah, heroic."

"That's fine. I can't take living like this anymore. I don't _do_ anything. I just go to school, stay out late and hang out at Taylor's house until I can't put off going home. And when I'm there I fall immediately asleep so I don't have to talk to my parents. I want to..."

Missy rose her hand up in the air as if trying to grasp on to something.

"Move on, I guess."

"Fair enough. I guess now we really _do_ have to go back to the office. We don't pay as well as the PRT does, by the way."

She sat up and put on a frown. "I thought you were making millions."

" _HFC_ is making millions. I'm making six figures, you can make five. If you want a mansion to live in then go start your own villain team and push drugs or something."

Missy's response to that suggestion was to shove me off my bed onto the floor. I started laughing before standing up and gathering my things.

Between Missy and I we could go anywhere in Brockton Bay within minutes, though Missy's ability is faster than mine in terms of moving long distances quickly. It takes me a few seconds every jump to re-orient myself and find a safe place to move next. This time adds up, but Missy can continuously jet us around no problem.

The second hand didn't even have time to spin around the clock before we ended up outside the HFC office. Even though I've been in here every day suddenly it was more imposing than usual. I wasn't worried about seeing Taylor or Faultline or any of those people, it was Dinah.

"Welcome back, Miss Clements," said the thrall manning the front desk. I ignored her and led Vista up the stairs to the offices. Vista had been here once or twice, but not very often and it had changed a bit since the last time. She looked all around the lobby in the short time I gave her before we were in the stairwell and resulting hallway.

"Looks nice," she said.

"Yeah." It wasn't up to professional standards but it was still nice. We had carpets and walls that were uniform in color, but there were still little things like stains in the ceiling and a musky smell. We were still in a building that was abandoned due to water damage by Leviathan after all.

At least we actually owned the land. Taylor had been operating from it for months by essentially squatting. The owner couldn't have done anything to kick her out, but purchasing it for real was worthwhile to stay on the legal side of things.

Taylor's door was open so I walked inside. She sat on her couch with her wings extended so it was impossible to miss her. Those wings were cited as the reason why her office was three times as big as the rest of ours. Missy had hit the nail on the head by calling her Wingspan.

The much smaller presence of Emma was on her knees besides Taylor. She was holding onto Taylor's hand and licking her fingers. Missy and I stopped in the doorway and stared at the display for a moment.

"Should we come back later?" I asked.

Taylor looked up, but kept her fingers in Emma's mouth. "We're behind schedule, so no. Now that you're back we can actually figure out what the hell we're going to do." Taylor glanced at Missy. "Hi Vista," she said. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I'm Madi's new sidekick," she said cheerfully. I rolled my eyes.

"That was fast." Taylor took her hand out of Emma's mouth and patted her on the cheek. "Emma, gather everyone in the conference room."

"Right away, master," she said softly and shuffled out of the room. Missy and I stood to the side as she left.

After she was gone, Taylor stood up. With her wings outstretched she was a dominating presence. They were large enough to almost obscure the fact there was another thrall behind her. The movement of Taylor's wings knocked them against the wall, but I'm not sure Taylor even noticed. She did fold her wings back in though.

"So you didn't have the strategy meeting yet?" I asked.

"No. What would be the point? I hate to say it but you usually bring the best ideas to the table." Taylor walked towards us and Missy and I moved to get out of her way, but she stopped in front of us. We all stood in the doorway. Taylor stared at Missy. "Are you really going to be Madison's sidekick, Vista? Does that mean you're working for HFC now?"

"I'd like to know the answer to that as well," I said.

Missy looked to me, then to Taylor. "If you'll have me. I, um, I do want to be Madi's sidekick though. I don't want to be shoveled in with all the other capes you have and shipped off somewhere."

"Sounds to me like that means your payment is going to come out of Madison's account," Taylor said with a sneer. "Welcome aboard. Are you going to stick with 'Vista?'"

"No, but I don't know what to change it to. Missy is fine for now."

Taylor nodded and leaned away from the door. We took the hint and made our way to the conference room where Faultline had already shown up. After a few minutes Shamrock and Gregor filtered in, followed by Spitfire and Newter carrying trays of sandwiches. They set them down on the table.

It felt a lot more casual than it should have considering the magnitude of what we were discussing. But I was hungry so I wasn't going to complain.

"Should we get started?" Taylor asked as I sat back down in my chair, setting my plate down.

"Sure," I said. "I already have a plan, so really it's just a matter of what you think of it."

Fautline held up her hand. "Hold on, are we really not going to bring up the fact that Madison just tried to choke a twelve-year-old to death?"

Their eyes all turned to me. I left my hands in my lap. "How is she?"

"I had a doctor look her over," Faultline said. "It's not something she can shrug off."

That was unfortunate. It didn't change anything though. Even if the injury had been minor, the fact that I did that broke my relationship with Dinah forever. If it ever existed in the first place. "I might as well explain myself," I said. "Since it leads into the purpose of this meeting."

I waited for someone to respond, but they were waiting for _me_. I took a deep breath.

"Yesterday Dinah and I were sitting in my office and she asked if I wanted to play cards. Then she brought Shamrock in and I lost thirty thousand dollars, though I didn't think anything suspicious of it." There was a round of nodding heads at Shamrock's typical behavior. "The nature of the game we played was such that the game was over long before it seemed like it was. That by the time I realized I was on the path to defeat it was already too late. Then, as Taylor and Faultline are well aware, the next night we were kidnapped and dragged to a warehouse."

Taylor held up her hand. "Technically I was _invited._ "

"Sure." That made sense. Taylor was a bit hard to kidnap nowadays. "While Jack was explaining what he was doing, it hit me that the same technique that _Shamrock_ used to take me for thirty grand could be used to win _this_ game. Once I started thinking about it in that way, I came to the realization about why I thought of it."

"...and you realized that Dinah knew," Taylor finished. "The source of that anger you had?"

"Yeah. It obviously persisted." I spun the plate with my sandwich around. I hadn't taken an actual bite out of it yet, but I grabbed the bag of chips and spilled them onto the plate.

"I hate to be the one to say this," Gregor said. "But what do we do with the little girl now?"

"She hasn't tried to escape," Faultline said. "But we need to discuss it. While _choking her to death_ is unacceptable, I can't deny she's too useful to let go."

There was a lull in the conversation and I took the opportunity to take a bite of the sandwich. It was a little early for lunch, but I hadn't eaten anything in hours. While munching down I noticed there was an awkward silence around the table.

I pointed to Taylor. "Just bite her," I said. "Are we still under quota this month?"

"Yes," she said. She shrugged. "But she's been through a lot. Dinah deserves a break."

"Maybe I went overboard," I said, "but if Dinah leaves us Calvert is going to have his way with... I think I'll rephrase. If he doesn't kill her outright he'll throw her back in a cell and drug her until she doesn't even know her own name. But if you _don't_ bite her, she'll be the one who kills _us._ "

"I don't know about that," said Missy.

There were a few eyebrows as Missy-the-newcomer inserted herself into the conversation. "Putting aside why you're here," Faultline said, "what do you mean?"

"Madi said she thought about this tattoo incident like game 'cause of Shamrock." She looked at me. "Doesn't that mean Dinah is the reason you came up with a plan at all? Maybe she just wanted to save this city, so she put you in a situation so you could save us."

"By letting me get kidnapped?" I asked. "Who knows what horrible things Jack could have done. I was completely at his mercy."

"Dinah," Missy said. "Dinah knew. Instead of assuming she was trying to kill you, isn't it possible she knew you would be fine, and _that's_ why she let it happen?"

"I—but then she could have warned me, at least. We could have planned ahead."

"Unless it made the numbers go down," Tayor said. She grinned wide. "She's pragmatic. I bet she knew you would be fine, knew not telling you would be the best outcome for this city, and probably even knew what your reaction would be and did it anyways."

I pushed my plate away from me. My appetite was gone.

"...fuck." I said.

Taylor didn't give me the chance to reflect on my colossal mistake. "So what's your big plan?" She asked.

I took a breath and collected my thoughts. If I sacrificed my relationship with Dinah, I can at least make it worth it. "The whole point is to win before anyone realizes what's going on. Since it's Christmas, I thought we'd do a bit of charity work. Hold a food drive, give out blankets and toys for the kids, stuff like that. We should go all out, costs be damned."

Faultline raised her brow. "Uh huh," she said. "And the _actual_ purpose of this charity?"

I leaned forward in my chair. "We're going to spike the food with our cure. Like I said, it's Christmas, so not only will giving away food not be suspicious, red coloring won't even be suspicious. If we pad the charity with non-foods as well it will throw suspicion off even more."

"I don't know about that," Taylor said. "The PRT isn't incompetent. And the Undersiders are nothing to sneer at. They could see through it."

"They _could,_ but I don't think they will." I replied. "The groundwork was set last night for this to actually work. Jack presented this as a game of _convincing the people_ to 'vote' for us. This charity follows that pattern exactly. When pressed we'll even deny any malicious intention and pull some bull crap about how we were planning this since before Jack started all this. Everyone will think our evil intentions are to convince the public to like us with free gifts and whatnot."

"And the agreement to try Panacea and other healers?" Faultline asked.

"Doesn't matter," I said. "If there is something Bonesaw overlooked it should apply to people who've taken a cure as well. It's fine if the PRT or Undersiders berate us for it. We can deny any malicious intentions. Publicly we'll continue to agree with the PRT and tell people not to take any cure until after whatever nonsense the PRT gives as an excuse."

"How is this possibly the best option?" Taylor asked. "Maybe it would secure our victory—maybe—but if the PRT and Undersiders act in the extreme and overtly try to convince people to take their own cure we could end up with thousands of people left to die come February."

"It's not perfect," I shot back. "Of course it isn't. But if we make the first play and we get a few thousand people red-cured, that's some serious leverage to make the red cure publically endorsed. _Not_ endorsing red would be admitting to killing thousands of people. Frankly, I don't think any of them have that in them."

"It's risky," Faultline said.

Shamrock knocked her hand on the table a few times. "I vote for Madison's plan," she said. "Yes, it's risky, but that'll be fucking true no matter what we pull. This is a risk steered towards winning."

"Thanks," I said. I expected her to side with me seeing as I got the idea from her, but it was nice to have someone vocally support me. "I want to emphasize that this isn't some kill them all and take whatever we want sort of plan. I'm not saying it will turn out this way, but it's possible that this results in most of the city being saved. If we can play our hand well enough that the PRT and Undersiders back down."

There were still objections, but I could explain them away. And our plan was more or less set, albeit it required literal truck loads of preparation. But by Christmas eve-eve everything was ready.


	40. HFC 4-6

**4.6 HFC**

I pulled the scarf around my face. "Merry Christmas," I said and handed a box to a man with an eye patch.

"Thank you," he said. "God bless." He walked away with his wife and kid. I watched them walk off until someone else walked up wanting a box of their own. The charity was popular enough.

It was tough to get a large volume of goods together on such short notice, but we outdid ourselves. After loading a couple of trucks with food and goods, we circled them around at the local park, started a few fires in the snow and hooked up a stereo to play some Christmas jazz.

Most people came for the food, which was what we wanted and expected.

"Here you are, sir," Missy said. She shoved a box full of canned food into his arms. "Where did you say you lived?"

"Ah, down by the beaches..."

"You should go ask Bakuda for one of her heaters. They're really cozy." Missy pointed towards Bakuda's little stand. She ended up inventing a slow-burning bomb of sorts which gave off heat for a couple of hours.

There were also blankets and stuff but we mostly focused on the food. Squealer couldn't manage to think of anything she could make, but she decked out a pickup in tons of lights and holiday images. She drove around the park with kids in the back. Stuff like that was important too.

"Here you are," I said handing an older woman a box.

"I'm glad this is going so well," said Missy.

"Same," I said. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Really? You've never done any charity work?" Missy put her finger to her mouth. "Actually that totally fits your character. Arcadia makes us do volunteer work though, otherwise we don't qualify for honors."

I laughed. "Winslow didn't have much of an honors program."

The park was coversed in snow, but all the foot traffic cleared most of it out of our event area. While I was glad at the response we'd gotten—it was only Christmas eve and we'd already had hundreds of people stop by—it shedded light on how terrible of a situation our city was in. A terrible tragedy like Leviathan isn't over in a few weeks or a month. We were here six months later and so many people still needed help.

There were two other Endbringer attacks and everything, meaning poor Brockton Bay had already been forgotten by the media. But we were still desperately recovering.

Missy handed me a cookie with red frosting. I took a bite and held the rest with my teeth while I grabbed a box for the next "customer."

To everyone's great pain the cost of this endeavor was basically all of HFC's income. Luckily charity work was a tax write off—if we were going to pay taxes, still not sure on that one—but that meant we had no money in the first place to give to the government.

"Hey, Madi," Missy said.

"Yeah?"

"Look at Taylor for a second."

Taylor was set up on the other side of the circle. Even though there were snow clouds in the sky it was impossible for her to be out in the open. She had a huge tent set up over on her side. I shifted to get a good look at her.

Someone came up to her and she made some motion with her hand before spinning around and grabbing a box. I could see a smile on her face as she adjusted her Santa hat and easily handed the guy the box full of canned food with one hand.

"She looks happy," I noted.

"I don't see her much, but I've never seen her look like that," Missy said.

"That's because it's an actual smile, not the fake crap she always wears on her face. She looks like that with her thralls, but I never get to see it for long." I said.

"Why don't... oh." Missy said. "Well, I'm glad she's into this."

We went back to handing our canned food out to who needed it, but it didn't last long before the fun was ruined. I saw them in the sky long beforehand, and simply watched the two of them as they got near. Who they would approach wasn't in question, but I wished that I was the person who they came to.

I gave Missy a look to cover my line and teleported over to Taylor, where Glory Girl and Panacea had landed.

"Merry Christmas, Amy." Taylor said cheerfully. She might _actually_ be happy right now.

"Merry Christmas," I followed up. "Did you come to help?"

Amy shook her head. "Actually, I want to borrow one of those boxes."

I was going to open my mouth, but Taylor beat me to the punch. "Those are for people who need them, which you two _don't_. And even if you did, you can't skip the line just because you're a hero."

Amy shut her mouth. "Hey," Glory Girl said. "That's not what she meant."

"Then what _did_ she mean?" Taylor asked.

"Now now, Taylor," I said. I grabbed a baggie out of my coat, undid the tie on top and took out two cookies. "We can share a _little_ bit. Here, a cookie for each of you."

I put a cookie with red frosting and filling in both Panacea and Glory Girl's hand. The two of them looked uncomfortably at each other.

"They're really good, you gotta try them," I finished with. "It's my grandma's recipe."

The hesitation before taking a bite was what gave away what Amy's thoughts—she completely guessed what was going on here. I'm just glad she approached it in the absolute wrong way.

I looked at them expectantly.

Glory Girl went to put the cookie in her mouth, which prompted Amy to lurch forward. "Wait," she said and grabbed her sister's arm.

"Is something wrong?" I asked as Amy nabbed the cookie and stared at it intently. She held it in her hands while at least five seconds passed by. I noticed a bit of red push into her cheeks. "Do you really think I did something to that?" I asked.

"Uh, no, sorry I—er," Amy said.

I looked down at my feet. "I guess that's what I get for trying to be charitable." I drew my scarf around my face to hide my smile and headed back to my station.

Missy finished handing off one of the boxes of canned food before turning my way. "Something up?"

"Naw. I think Amy is being a little paranoid, but I suppose we deserve it." I waved the next person in line forward. "Merry Christmas," I said and handed off a box.

It was a little more serious than Amy being paranoid. The key to this operation was to fully believe we were only trying to win over public favor. If we play any sort of mind game about did-we-or-didn't-we, that's already too far. The act had to be perfect.

Missy was crucial to this point and she damn well knew it. She had the full reputation of being a good person—a hero, even. Despite everything, including multiple Endbringers and Red Sky, she kept to her heroic principles. And that reputation was carrying this charity.

The rest of us were a bunch of villains, after all.

The charity ran most of the day and a few hours past sundown. Once it darkened Taylor was a lot more energetic, but after the post-work rush we pulled the shutters down on the trucks and got ready to head back to the warehouse.

The day had gone by without much incident. There was the occasional PRT van parked nearby, and Velocity took a stroll with a couple of other heroes. But no one confronted us or what we were doing openly in front of everyone. Panacea had been the closest.

My phone was full of scathing voicemails from Tagg and texts from Grue, but it only made me smile. They were complaining about our dirty, underhanded move. The PRT had its own charity thing going, but the Undersiders couldn't put anything together like we could.

Everyone was playing the popularity game. But until someone comes out and pushes for a specific colored cure, it's all setup.

"I don't think they will do anything on Christmas," I said to myself.

"Who?" Asked Missy. She sat next to me in the back of Squealer's pickup.

"The PRT," I said. "The world likes to stand still on Christmas. People don't want to hear any news or anything, they just want to celebrate."

"Well yeah. Duh."

"The point is that it's a perfect time to make a move," I continued. "Ours is going to be continuing the charity, but I'm worried about what the Undersiders might pull. The PRT can't do much because their moves are press releases."

Press releases aren't effective on Christmas. The moves that _are_ effective are the types of moves the Undersiders might pull. Something like sabotage.

Missy rested her head against my shoulder. "Do you really think the Undersiders are evil enough to poison a charity?"

"Yes. Obviously."

With that comforting thought, we pulled into an HFC warehouse. We were going to be out in the park tomorrow as well despite it being Christmas day. My family wasn't happy I wouldn't be home for Christmas but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

Taylor was already at the warehouse when we pulled in. Squealer jumped out of the car and dashed up to Taylor's side. She dropped down to her knees and Taylor brushed her hair.

Missy and I stepped out of the truck and closed the doors. "Going to stay on guard?" I asked Taylor.

"The thralls will. Going home?"

I nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Missy, do you want to walk together?"

She laughed. "Thanks for admitting I'm faster than you."

"That wasn't—are you coming or not?"

Missy grabbed me by the hand and we left Taylor alone to play with Squealer or whatever it was she did with her thralls when no one was watching. With Missy's help we were at my house in moments. We didn't even need to run. Only a couple of paces as the world rushed around us and we were there.

When we were on my doorstep Missy planted her feet on our stoop. She didn't say anything.

"Do you want to sleep over?" I asked.

She looked like she was about to choke on her own words, but just nodded. "Was I that obvious?"

"No. I just pay attention." I opened the door. "I'm back," I shouted. It was only eight-thirty so everyone should still be awake. I let Missy inside and locked the door behind her.

From what she's said, Missy's life at home wasn't a fun one. It would be nice to think that families like hers sucked it up on Christmas day, but that isn't the world we live in. That Missy didn't look forward to Christmas was unfortunately predictable.

"I brought Missy," I said as we entered the living room. My parents were sitting on the couch watching an old Christmas movie while my brother eyed the presents under the tree.

"Hi Mister and Missus Clements," Missy said. "I hope I'm not a bother."

"Not at all, honey." Said mom.

We took off our coats and sat by the fire. Even if Missy could move us through the streets by manipulating space, she couldn't manipulate the freezing temperature. After spending most of the day out in the cold, it was nice to finally relax.

My parents waited until I got back to serve dinner, so I got to enjoy a nice Christmas-Eve meal. Missy enjoyed herself too.

"It's a shame you have to work on Christmas," my dad said.

I shrugged and swallowed the piece of turkey in my mouth. "It's important. For various reasons."

"It's the first time our little Madison has ever done charity work," my mom said. "I'm so proud."

I think I'll let mom have that one. "There were more people than I expected," I said. The line was reasonably long, so I think it was people who actually needed it. That's what it felt like.

What a sorry state our city was in.

We finished up dinner and the resulting dessert before heading back into the living room to digest. We all watched _The Grinch_ together despite everyone already having seen it a thousand times. When it was over, mom went over to the tree and grabbed a present out from underneath it.

"You'll probably be gone before we wake up," she said, "so why don't you open this now?"

I took the present. "Can I?"

"No fair," said my brother. "If she gets to open one, so do I."

Mom gave him one too. He violently ripped the paper off revealing some video game. He was pretty happy about it, but I didn't really know what it was. As for me, I carefully took the wrapping paper off my own present.

It was a white coat with a purple interior. I held it up and turned it around—on the back was a large symbol. A solid square with three parallel lines coming down from it. It took me an awkward moment of my mom staring at me until I got it.

Then I laughed. "That's really clever," I said. "Thanks. This is awesome. And also feels really nice." I rubbed the coat up against my face before I stood up and tried it on. It was a perfect fit.

I spun around for everyone and did a pose.

"What's that thing on the back?" Missy asked.

"It's a transistor," I said.

"Like the computer part?"

"Yes. Also, it's my name. Remember?"

Missy frowned. "I thought your name was like, I don't know. One who transists... like, moves around. Right?"

I shook my head. "'Transist' isn't a word. The computer part is its only definition as far as I'm aware."

Missy followed me over to the mirror so I could look at myself. It was more stylish than I thought, though it was still winter wear. My mom sure knows how to pick them.

With the symbol on the back it was probably custom made.

"Why did you name yourself that?" Missy asked.

"No particular reason."

Missy stepped in front of me and gave me a look. She blocked my view of the mirror so I couldn't ignore her.

"Ugh, fine. The fact it sounds close to 'transition,' which is what I do, means the error is a common one. The fact I 'made it' when doing something as important as naming myself would make me seem cuter."

"Thought so," she said.

As nice as the coat was, it was eighty-something degrees inside so off it came. After my brother had retreated back into his room with his game, my parents started getting ready for bed. There was a little more on my agenda for tonight though.

Missy followed me into the kitchen. "You're making cookies?" She asked.

I nodded and got out the supplies, as well as the styrofoam box out of the freezer. I set that on the side and started mixing the batter. Missy naturally gravitated towards what I pulled out the freezer and opened up the little box.

"Oh, so we won't want to be eating these," Missy said with a frown. She held up the vial of blood. "Taylor's a lucky girl."

"We can make some without the blood in it if you want. I also have this too," I said pulling out a vial of the red cure. "If there's anyone in particular you have in your sights."

"Naw."

I didn't have the foggiest idea how to bake cookies using blood, but if I made regular jelly-filled cookies I could mix some of the blood in with the jelly and that might work. Though they _looked_ edible when all was said and done, I couldn't exactly taste test it. The ones without the blood tasted good though.

"I didn't get her anything," Missy said. "Is that going to be awkward?"

"She probably didn't get _you_ anything," I said. "I wouldn't sweat it. She probably didn't get me anything either."

I put the cookies into a little bag and tied it with some ribbons. Missy watched as I scribbled Taylor's name on a little card and looped the ribbon through it. Just to make sure my little brother didn't try to eat any of them, I took them back to my room and put them in the safe with the half-eaten box of Bonesaw's thin mints.

I stared at the open safe for a moment. A box of poisoned thin-mints, a bag of cookies with blood baked into them, and twenty thousand dollars of cash. There probably wasn't anything to read into there.

I shut the safe and spun the dial. It was getting late so Missy and I laid out some sheets for her to sleep on."Can I use your shower?" She asked.

"Of course. Use one of the blue towels."

Missy trotted off to the shower while I laid back on my bed. I held my hand up and looked at the ceiling.

I should be glad we weren't found out, but Amy was onto what we were doing. She didn't _do_ anything about it though. She tried to confront us, but Taylor and I fended it off.

But all that being said, we weren't going to service more than a couple thousand people. In a city of eighty thousand that wasn't going to cut it. There was still room to be overtaken. We'd have to follow up with something.

I shook my head. I need to keep focusing on tomorrow and making sure it goes smoothly.

There was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said.

My dad entered with a small box under his left arm. He held it carefully. "This is something from me. Don't tell your mother. Or Alex."

I gave him a look but nodded and accepted the box. It wasn't wrapped and I opened it slowly.

"This is..." I gently lifted the gun out of the box. It was barely bigger than my hand.

"While I hate to say it, I think you need it," he said.

I nodded. It was one of those small ones meant to be concealed in a purse or something. This one could easily fit in my coat pocket. It was barely the size of a smart phone.

There was a pervasive silence over the room while I inspected it. It was wrong. There was something very wrong about a father giving his cute little daughter a gun for Christmas. Somewhere down the road I had made a very wrong choice that led to this moment.

"T-Thank you," I said.

Dad seemed like he was trying to find something to say, but neither of us could come up with any words. He nodded and wished me good night, closing my door behind him on the way out. I smiled until he left, then held the little gun in my hand.

It wasn't the first gun I've held and it won't be the first I've shot. But it felt heavier than all those other ones.

I put it under my pillow before Missy returned, and then we went to sleep. We tried to do the sleep-over thing where we talked all night but both of us fell asleep within the hour.

Bright and early the next morning we headed back to the park. My new jacket was topped by my scarf, and inside one of its pockets was the gun. Inside the other pocket were Taylor's cookies.

"By the way, here." I said handing Missy a wrapped box. "Merry Christmas."

She smiled and grabbed it. "Thanks. My present for you is still back at the office." She unwrapped it as we were walking and tossed the wrapping paper onto the ground. I watched in the corner of my eye as she opened the little ring box and took out the key. She held it up. "It's a key."

"It is."

"What's it go to?"

"Your apartment."

"My... what?"

"It's a one-bedroom on the end of fifth. It's owned by HFC, but no one actually lives there. For all intents and purposes it's yours." I leaned over and pulled a small card out of the ring box. "Here, this is the address."

"But I'm... I'm thirteen."

"So?"

Missy fiddled with the key in her hand. "This is too much, Madi. Compared to what I got you, this is... I can't compete with this."

"If it makes you feel less guilty, HFC already owned it. It wasn't bought specifically for you—I just saw this as another use for it."

She shook her head. "The cost isn't what I meant. I meant—that is, I didn't know what to get you so it's nothing really special." She cradled the key in her hands. "But this is exactly what I needed. More than anything."

We made it back to the park before I could respond. Something was going on because there were at least five cop cars flaring their lights around the park. Missy and I slowed to an actual walking pace as we neared the charity.

As we got closer I noticed there wasn't any fighting. The officers hung around near their cars while Taylor and Faultline watched from afar. Taylor stood under a large umbrella that one of her thralls held up.

"What's going on?" I asked. Taylor didn't turn to look at me and staring at the police.

"Apparently due to increased foot traffic the police have decided to offer their 'assistance' in maintaining an organized event." Taylor crossed her arms. "We're trying to figure out what to do about it."

"What's wrong with that?" Missy asked.

I took my hand out of my pocket and scratched my cheek. My hand got cold just from that. "The people who need help are the same who avoid the police. Generally speaking."

Taylor nodded. "If they actually intended on helping they wouldn't be using the lights either. We're deciding on the appropriate response."

Something like this was expected. I wasn't sure what it would be, but Tagg would have to try _something._ This was more clever than I expected. Since they were regular police officers we had no room to be aggressive.

"It would be bad to attack them," Faultline offered.

"What else do we do?"

Missy frowned. "There's gotta be a better answer than violence."

The police were enough to discourage citizens from coming near us, but they couldn't actually enforce anything with us nearby. But all they needed were the cars and the uniforms. That being said—

"Hey," I said to no in particular. "Does crime go up on Christmas day?"

"It goes up in December," Faultline said. "I don't know about Christmas day."

"Good enough. Let's kindly offer them some assistance of our own. Taylor, if you would call Squealer."

Taylor didn't move. "To do what?"

"Nothing at all. We'll have her drive one of her infamous tanks over and park it in front of the downtown police station. You know, in case they need some Christmas day backup."

Taylor pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and started dialing. Faultline stepped closer to me while she was on the phone. "That won't necessarily solve the problem," she said.

I nodded. "Tagg will escalate. That's fine, we can escalate back. He's the type of person who will make his point with force."

"That sounds like what we _don't_ want to happen."

"No, we do." I pulled my phone out of my pocket. My hands got cold. "As long as _they fire the first shot,_ we can spin it. In fact..." I scrunched my brow. "Yeah. We shouldn't have any guns. Put whatever we have in a truck and send it back to the warehouse."

Faultline scratched her head and let her fingers run through her long hair. "We're prodding them into attacking us."

I texted a local reporter that there might be a juicy story. Even though it's Christmas, someone will be desperate enough to chase it. "Uh huh," I told Faultline. "It would be great if they forcibly tried to stop the charity. If there was a shot of someone like Velocity dragging Squealer away—" I licked my lips.

"The PRT would be ruined?" Faultline finished.

"Yeah, basically." I raised my phone up and took some shots of the police officers milling around. They weren't getting very close to us for supposedly "helping." I made sure to put that in the PHO post. Then I took a few photos of us setting things up.

Taylor finished her called and slid back into the conversation. "You can't possibly think that one of those beat cops over there is going to actually fire his weapon at us. Even when intimidated."

"It's unlikely."

Ultimately, parking the tank in front of the police station would just add doubt into their minds. Despite HFC operating openly in the city, in everyone's minds we were still a villain group. Untrustworthy and unpredictable—maybe we _would_ fire a shell into the police station. Even if the cops and the PRT knew that we would never actually do it, on an individual level people would feel a little less safe with that tank there.

And that's all it takes. A little sliver of doubt and fear.

"It's chess," I said. "We're playing chess right now. Tagg moved a pawn, so we moved a pawn of our own. Now it's his turn."

"Do you actually play chess?" Taylor asked.

"No. Does the analogy not work? It's a pretty standard one."

Taylor shrugged. "In chess, there isn't an option to _do nothing._ But if Tagg and the cops respond to this with _doing nothing,_ then we're still at square one."

I didn't respond. Taylor had said something that gave away the level she thought at. She acted like she was getting better at this sort of thing—hell, she probably _was_ —but then she says something like that. Something so obviously out of touch with the game that's being played.

It reminded me that she was still Taylor Hebert. The shy, mousy girl from high school who let herself get bullied.

"Tagg is the type of person who will react," I said. "We're provoking him. He can't let it slide—doing nothing won't even occur to him as an option. Even if it seems like the most logical course of action to _you_." I stared at Taylor but she didn't seem convinced. "You're not playing against yourself, Taylor. You're playing against a different person who has different thoughts. Just trust me on this."

After a few minutes Squealer must have managed to drive the tank over and park it in front of the station, because the cops around the park changed their behavior. While everyone on site kept them in the corner of our eyes, we tried to focus on the charity.

Most of the booths and whatnot were set up. Parian had even set up her own stand today to make clothes for people. A few of Taylor's thralls milled about, but it was clear they weren't good with the sun.

Taylor on the other hand stayed under the big umbrella that Charlotte was following her around with. She looked pretty pleased to have such a task.

Missy caught me staring. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Dang, that wasn't it." She scrunched her eyebrow before grinning. "Ah, you're _jealous._ That's cute."

There was a pause.

"In a sort of scary way..." She followed up with.

I spun on my heel. "Come on, let's pile all these boxes up. People are starting to show up."

Though people were arriving the police presence was clearly making them nervous. The atmosphere was different than it was yesterday. Tense. Not the type of environment to run a charity in.

Tagg's reaction to our move was swift. Velocity and Panacea dropped by. I'm not even sure what their excuse was. They probably didn't have one, but I smiled at their arrival. What a simple play. This was nothing compared to playing against Calvert.

I teleported over to the two of them. Panacea jumped at my sudden appearance but Velocity kept his cool. "Come on," I said. "Over here you two."

"Uhh..." The two of them looked at each other but I didn't wait for them before strolling to one of the trucks. They followed me, because what else were they going to do?

Oh the human mind. I grabbed two Santa hats out of a bin and pushed them into Velocity and Panacea's hands. "Velocity, you can man the food stand over there with Emily. Panacea, I think Parian wanted an assistant." I pointed the two of them to where they should go.

"Wait, we—"

"Thanks for your help," Taylor shouted from a little ways away. She smiled and gave a little wave before turning her attention to the stand she was managing. I proceeded to teleport away before Velocity and Panacea could respond.

A classic tactic, but an effective one. I engaged a thrall in a mock conversation—who was perfectly willing to play along when I told it to engage in a mock conversation with me—while I waited for their reaction. As expected the two of them obeyed.

That wasn't a counter though, that was dodging an attack. An appropriate response needed to be made.

At its heart the fact those police were there at all was a problem. Panacea was also a problem. Hopefully Parian would keep her busy. Everyone knew not to let her get close to anything that could compromise what was happening. Still, accidents happen.

I mulled over what to do while absentmindedly handing out boxes. Despite the cops we were still getting plenty of people. That was good. Maybe. I wasn't the only one who noticed because Faultline came over and said the exact same thing.

"It's not necessarily a good thing for the city," Faultline said. "Our thoughts this morning were that the people who needed help are the type who would avoid the police. If we still believe that to be true, this means they're willing to explicitly _not_ avoid the police to get this food."

Faultline didn't have to complete her line of reasoning for me to get it. She posed two possibilities: Either people needed help way more badly than we suspected, or they _weren't afraid of the police._ The first spoke to a state of despair our city was in. But the latter spoke to a lack of faith in law enforcement.

Neither option was good, but the latter would be more beneficial to us.

"What are they doing now?" Faultline asked. I looked over. The cops changed their formation, clearly gearing up to do something. I noticed cops checking their weapons and confirming things with their superiors. They were about to make a move.

Then she descended from the sky.

"Nice try," said Alexandria. She pointed towards our little setup. "Confiscate everything," she commanded to the police.


	41. HFC 4-7

**4.7 HFC**

Fuck fuck fuck.

I stared at the police confiscating all the food we intended to give away to the populace. The food laced with Bonesaw's red cure, the one that would guarantee our victory. This was the worst-case scenario. The people who had already taken our food and were cured could very well have been marked for death instead.

Alexandria kept glancing at me while ordering around the cops. I couldn't see under her mask, but I could imagine a sly smirk on her face.

She couldn't wait one fucking day to be revived? She had to make it back into the world of the living _now_ , right in time to fuck up our plans.

"Your face is completely neutral," said Missy.

"Good," I said. At least I didn't give away how terrified I was.

The plan wasn't bad. It was pretty good actually. But I hadn't accounted for the black swan event of Alexandria coming back. Yes, we knew she was frozen in time. And yes, we knew that she might come back at any time.

But I still hadn't accounted for it.

"What's going to happen?" Missy asked.

I kept my expression neutral. "Can't say," I said.

That one was literal. Saying _anything_ right now was dangerous. Someone was probably listening to everything—like Leonid, the cape who could literally hear everything. Anyone admitting what we did is unacceptable. The thralls would keep quiet and Taylor, Faultline and the rest of the crew were smart enough to not say anything. No one else was aware of what was going on.

I spotted Taylor walking away from the police. She came towards me, her footsteps light in the snow. Charlotte trailed behind her, the umbrella wobbling in her hands as she tried to keep it steady.

"Get ready," Taylor said. She stood beside me and watched the police pick apart our charity.

"For what?"

"To do what you do best." She crossed her arms. "Spin this in our favor."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a miracle worker," I said. "Look at what's happening."

We were caught with our pants around our ankles. I felt the outline of my little gun pressing against my abdomen. The cookies I had made for Taylor were still in my other pocket. There wouldn't be a chance later, so I took them out.

"I know this isn't the time, but Merry Christmas," I said holding out the little cookie bag. Taylor looked at them without reaching out. "They're not to share," I said. "I baked them with a blood-jelly filling. I have no idea if they're good or not."

I looked over at her when she still refused to take them. Her eyes were wide.

"Is something wrong?"

She shook her head and grabbed the cookies. "Thank you," she said and turned away. Missy, being her usual self, trotted around to look her in the eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Missy asked.

She's... crying?

"I-I'm not."

I said nothing. That was not the reaction I was expecting. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn't the sort of situation I could walk away from.

"Sorry," Taylor said. The quiver in her voice was apparent. "It's just I—this morning, I had more gifts than I'd ever gotten before. So many people gave me things..." She sniffed. "It just used to be my dad and me. A couple of gifts. But now—"

"Ah. The thralls?"

She nodded. I hadn't thought that all of her thralls would give her something for Christmas. For Taylor that must have been overwhelming. Especially if they had kept it a secret from her.

Missy took up the role I could not and took Taylor's hand to console her. Though it was clearly a happy cry opposed to a sad one, I looked away and focused on the situation at hand.

We were royally screwed. Panacea must have suspected or directly found out what we were up to. Even if she couldn't cure Bonesaw's disease she could probably detect it and the cures.

It's hard to figure out what exactly happened to expose us. Anyone with a head on their shoulders could have suspected what we were up to, but in the same vein _it should have worked._

I bit my lip.

No, it shouldn't have. It didn't work, so it shouldn't have. Something was wrong with the plan—something more fundamental than not accounting for Alexandria's appearance.

In the planning stages it was argued that all the players were in the mindset of the rules of the game. Everyone believed the game was to convince the public we are the best choice to lead them. That was the setup of the game—the one we would take advantage of.

Our plan relied on everyone thinking that. But that was the problem. The game Shamrock roped me into was just me and Dinah, but Dinah hadn't really counted. Shamrock was only focused on keeping _me_ in the proper mindset. One person.

But _our_ plan relied on _no one in the city_ realizing it. Or at least no one who would do anything about it. From a pure probability standpoint, it would be strange if someone _didn't_ figure out what was going on.

I saw Faultline outwardly complaining at Panacea, Alexandria and Tagg who were milling around some table heavily guarded by the cops.

"Wow," I said. "I can hear Faultline from here."

Taylor nodded, pulling herself together. She handed the cookies to Charlotte, who put them away in a bag she was carrying. "She's more commanding than you might think."

We kept watching. The cops and PRT were all over the place with news vans parked alongside. It was only a matter of time before the sky came crashing down.

I dug my hands into the pockets of my new jacket and stared up at the light snowfall.

"I'm going to go say something to the press," Taylor said.

"Don't bother."

Taylor shook her head. "Sorry, I need to."

I didn't push the matter and let her go. The path to victory wasn't clear. Soon Panacea would claim she found the cure in a can of soup and HFC would be exposed for trying to "cheat" and force people to take our cure. It would destroy us.

There were two paths to walk down. Retreat or attack. We could apologize like an actual company might do. We'd continue on existing but would lose Jack's game. I'd have to become Taylor's thrall to survive. So would Faultline and everyone else, including Taylor's dad. That would kill Taylor if she had to do that.

The second path was to attack. Assassinate the six opponents and make the game pointless for those left alive. We could push the idea that even if the populace voted for a different color, we weren't going to die thanks to Taylor and they'd have to deal with the consequences of betraying us.

The latter choice would keep me not a thrall, so it was preferred. It was the natural response though, which meant it would be _expected._ Even so... ugh, with Alexandria in town we might recreate the Red Sky incident.

"Missy," I said.

"Yeah?"

"You asked what's going to happen. The only outcome I see is violence."

She frowned. "There has to be another way."

"I'm open to suggestions."

And I was. Missy provided none despite trying to think of something. That was the world we lived in. The PRT and us agreed to stop the violence between us, and it worked, but there were people like Jack Slash who made no such agreement.

So we had to respond in kind, otherwise we would die. It was as simple as that.

...so why was the violence directed at the PRT and not at Jack Slash?

"Fuck me he's good," I said quietly. The Nine wasn't unbeatable. Members died all the time. But their existence continued regardless and this situation must be music to Jack's ears. He was no doubt watching from somewhere.

After five minutes Faultline gave up shouting at the PRT and sat in the bed of a pickup, watching Panacea inspect the boxes. Missy and I were stood a little far away so it wasn't clear what was going on.

But it was taking an awfully long time. The PRT's body language was agitated.

"They look pretty mad over there," Missy commented.

"Yeah." So she'd noticed it too. It was as if they hadn't found anything, but that was impossible. Panacea had torn through ten boxes, opened all the food and ran her fingers over it all. She _had_ to have found it.

I saw Faultline hold up her smart phone and take a picture of the scene. Panacea was hunched over a bunch of opened food meant for the hungry. I took out my own phone and texted her.

 _What's going on over there?_

About thirty seconds went by before she looked down at her phone and then turned towards me. She started typing back into her phone.

 _They haven't found anything. Amy's distressed, apparently this was at her direction._

Impossible. I wanted to text back and tell Faultline that was impossible, but doing that admitted on record what we've done. Instead I could only let the text sit in my pocket.

I kept Faultline in my eyeline. She was still on her phone.

"Maddi, your emotions are showing," Missy said.

Damn. "What did I look like?"

"Confused, mostly."

"Thanks."

Alright. Confusion. Thank you, Missy, that was what I needed to hear. I'm confused. Saying it helped, because when you're confused it means you have a false assumption. Something you believe true is false.

What do I believe to be true? That Panacea can actually detect the cure. That the cure is actually in the food. That the cure actually exists in the first place.

I should think about this from a retrospective standpoint. The PRT hasn't found the cure in our food yet. That means, precisely, that Panacea was unable to detect the red cure in our food. That she started this entire thing in the first place meant that Panacea _believed_ she could detect the cure though.

It's most logical that Panacea believed she could detect it because she _could_ detect it. She could be wrong, but it must have been something she tested beforehand.

If Panacea can detect the presence of the cure, she hasn't found it. Which means, after throwing away any other assumptions I might have:

The cure isn't in the food.

I shook my head. No, I didn't know that. All I knew was that in all ten boxes Panacea checked, there was no cure.

But I hadn't seen any attempt on anyone's part to give them decoy boxes. No one had the ability.

Taylor strode back over to Missy and me, Charlotte in her shadow. She stood next to me and faced the PRT. She was smiling.

"No way," I said. "You didn't really..."

Taylor glanced at me. "About time, Madison. Faultline and I were waiting for you to catch on all this time."

No way. She tricked me. _They_ tricked me. _Me!_

"How? _Why?_ "

Taylor faced away from the PRT and stood in front of me directly. The look on her face was one of glee, something I hadn't seen for... well, I can't even remember. "You could figure it out on your own," she said, "but I really want to say it."

She cleared her throat.

"At the time you made a strong case for your plan. No one had anything better, but it didn't sit right. So after the meeting Faultline ordered Elle to do what you _couldn't:_ talk with Dinah. Dinah still wants us to prevent the Valentine disaster, which means she was happy to help. That's when Elle learned the truth about your plan. It was doomed to fail.

"Instead of asking Bonesaw for a literal truckload of the cure, we fabricated it. It wasn't that hard. It's mostly just water, food coloring and a bit of honey to change the consistency. The thralls worked through the night to get it done. After that, well, we really _did_ go through every single box and lace it with the fake cure. The illusion had to be perfect.

"This is when it got tricky," Taylor continued. She was positively gloating now. "While Dinah told us we wouldn't succeed with your plan, to make use of that future we had to be able to control the rate at which the PRT moved. So instead of waiting for them to move on their own, we had to bait Amy. Her schedule is secret and getting close to her is impossible, but the same isn't true for Glory Girl. After padding an Arcadian student's bank account a little bit, he was willing to say whatever we told him to say. Quite simply, we had him express concerns to his classmate Victoria about what we could _really_ be doing today.

"She fell for it hook, line and sinker. She and her sister showed up yesterday right on time. Everything was planned and your little show made her even more concerned. She left to go tell the PRT what we were up to almost immediately, completely unaware she was a puppet on strings. That was late in the day and by the time they could come up with a plan to combat us we were already done. This meant they would have to intervene the following day—today."

Taylor gestured to the news vans. "So naturally we made sure everyone was witness to our little passion play: the PRT's unjust intervention into our perfectly innocent charity event." She spun on her heel and faced the cops still tearing apart our setup. "So, did you get all that? Leonid?"

I was in awe. They kept all of that from me. So much was going on behind the scenes I was unaware of. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "There wasn't a reason to keep me in the dark."

Taylor kept smiling. "Dinah asked us to keep you out of the loop. I don't know if it was for any practical reason or if she was just pissed off. But hell, I wasn't going to complain at jerking you around a bit."

I groaned. Damn that Dinah.

Leonid wasn't a microphone or a radio, so it's not like Taylor's little confession was on tape. He had simply heard it, which meant he had to relay it to someone else. Leonid had to tell Tagg or Alexandria who then had to _believe_ him.

All that took time, so for a minute nothing changed. It wasn't until Alexandria froze and then glared at us that we knew the jig was up.

"I have to admit, Taylor," I said. "This was genius. A nonviolent way to completely crush the PRT's reputation."

Hope may not have been lost. We couldn't openly tell people to take the red cure, but we could prod people in that direction. The media would do most of our work for us. They were more than ready to destroy in scandal anything they could get their hands on, even if it was the heroes themselves.

"As I said," Taylor said. "Get ready to do what you do best and spin this in our favor."

"Gladly."

The PRT's hands were tied. They only had two moves right now. The first was to back away with their tail in between their legs and the second was to lie and claim they did find the cure. I teleported back into the fray and strode towards Panacea. She was frantic now, tearing through the eleventh box.

"I think that's enough, Amy. Don't you?"

I didn't give her a gloating face. I gave her my best look of pity. It was like a knife went through her heart. "But I—I thought... you _had_ to have done it."

"Why? Because I'm a monster? Because I gave into that temptation so long ago?"

She bit her lip.

"Heroes always do the right thing," I said. "That doesn't mean villains always do the _wrong_ thing. Villains tend to just do whatever they want. Sometimes it's the wrong thing, other times it's the right."

Funny I should say this considering it was me who thought we were doing the superficially "wrong" thing.

Amy couldn't handle it. She broke down crying right then and there. She buried her face into her arms on the table and crouched to her knees. If she was anyone else this would be the time to console her. To put my hand on her shoulder and be there for her. That's how friends were made.

But she was Panacea, the biomanipulator. And she was in a rough emotional state. Touching her could literally kill me. So I could only stand from afar as Velocity took that role instead. He wouldn't have the same effect though. He didn't _know her._ Not like I did.

He looked at me cruelly.

"I think everyone's time has been adequately wasted," I said loudly. "If you leave we might be able to actually help some people today. If you don't mind."

Of course they wouldn't lie. It was Amy. Amy wouldn't lie and say she found it. Lying about something like that would break her moral code and she couldn't let herself give into temptation. She humbly admited defeat and took the rest of the PRT with her as she left.

As much as I was relieved at our narrowly-avoided disaster, it left a bad taste in my mouth. This was the situation we were trying to avoid. Instead of pulling an initially huge lead and demotivating the competition, we've simply started the surface-level game first.

By the time the game had started our victory should have been assured. But now it wasn't. We were just in first place, if such things could be quantified at all. And it wouldn't last with Alexandria back in action.

There had to be a follow-up. I informed Taylor of this near the end of the day to which she solemnly agreed. But other than kill the remaining two factions I couldn't think of anything else. Even though the PRT lost a lot of face today they _had_ ultimately stopped us.

In the week between Christmas and New Years the PRT and Undersiders engaged in the game Jack intended to be played. A mere popularity contest. Despite everyone at HFC knowing we had to do something, we couldn't think of anything.

It was past New Years by the time I had the thought.

When I finally did I could have kicked myself. But that's how it always goes. Thinking of good plans takes _time,_ and I haven't lived long enough to have good enough instincts on this sort of thing. Even remembering to do simple things like start over and clear my assumptions is hard to remember when posed with a difficult problem. It can take days or weeks to touch upon something obvious. And it feels terrible.

But that's how it always goes.

"So let me float this idea to you," I said to the regular attendees of our state-of-the-company meeting. "It's something I should have thought of weeks ago."

"Go for it," Shamrock said. She bit into a sandwich one of the thralls had made.

"So far us, the PRT and the Undersiders are trying to curry favor with the population. However, no one has outwardly said to take their cure. We're all simply trying to be the most likable, but at some point, probably near the start of February, someone is going to finally break and tell people to take their cure."

Taylor nodded. "Yes, that's what we're trying to avoid. Your best plan is to kill the others which we've shot down."

"And for that, I was wrong." I said. "We don't need them to die. We need them to _not fight_ against us. We need them to not contradict us when we tell everyone to take the red cure."

Everyone at the table stared at me, waiting for me to finish. This was the part that really bit me. That I hated myself for not thinking of earlier.

"So, let's capture them instead."

"Huh," Taylor said. "That's... hmm."

"I know it's not, you know, elegant." I said. "And it doesn't change the fact that if we _win_ they'll die from Bonesaw's disease. But they're going to meddle in whatever it is we try to do, so if we remove them we can at least have a _chance_ of fixing the city."

There was a moment of silence while everyone at the table considered it. As far as planning an operation goes, capturing the enemy is a lot harder than killing them. But Taylor and a good chunk of Faultline's crew weren't on board with the latter.

Better to try a tough operation than do nothing. Time was running out and we had to do _something._

"I'm on board," Taylor said.

"Me too," said Faultline.

And that was the end of that. All that was left was to actually plan the thing. "The worst part is," I said, "All six of them have to be captured at the same time."

"I had a feeling," Faultline said. "There's no way we could go after just one person. The rest would immediately know what we were up to and become impossible to find."

We had to plan one massive, huge operation that would take down six separate people at once, most of them grossly overpowered parahumans. It also had to account for the intervention of people like Alexandria and Calvert.

It wasn't going to be done by tomorrow, that's for certain.


	42. HFC 4-8

**4.8 HFC**

Forget about tomorrow or the day after or the day after that. It was weeks before we had a viable operation. But today was the day, January nineteenth. An important day for several reasons.

I pulled out my phone.

— _Want to go see the girl with the dragon tattoo?_

Message sent. I set the phone down on my desk and waited. "Pipo~" Shamrock said. A second later my phone chimed.

"So now you do parlor tricks?" I asked.

— _What time?_

— _3:30_

— _Sure_

"You were a little impressed," Shamrock said. I glanced up at the clock. It was one right now. That left two and a half hours to get everything prepared, though most of it was long since ready.

I stood up from my desk to get going. Because our six-pointed operation required six separate things to happen simultaneously, there wasn't much manpower to go around. It was me, Shamrock, and a pickup truck. And our goal was to capture Sophia Hess.

It was almost guaranteed this operation would fail in some way. The laws of probability would demand it: even if each separate plan had a ninety percent chance of success, all of them together would be a coin toss.

My responsibility was simple at its core. I would ask Sophia to the movies and she would be leaving unconscious. Shamrock was needed to look for people who were potentially shadowing Sophia. If I was right then even if Sophia wasn't personally aware, _someone_ in the PRT must be keeping tabs on her.

Sophia was the object of Taylor's hatred, after all. The PRT would be relishing the opportunity to catch us in the act of kidnapping so they could grind HFC into dust.

I stopped by my house before heading to the theater so I could pick up my larger purse. It was the perfect size for sneaking a box of cookies into the theater. The food was way overpriced there anyways.

There were quite a number of people on the boardwalk. It was still the middle of winter and very cold, but that didn't stop the people of Brockton Bay. Though there was a definite note of gloom in the air. It probably had something to do with the huge tattoos that literally every person had across their face.

Bonesaw's work.

After today there would be progress towards solving that. Ever since the Christmas incident not a lot had happened. We were playing Jack's game the way he wanted it to be played, despite how often I said it was a bad idea. It felt like HFC was winning, but it was impossible to know. At least not until Bonesaw's virus killed us all.

Sophia was waiting by the ticket booth, staring at her phone. "Yo," I said once I got close.

"Hey Mads," she said. "Dealing with Taylor must be a pain today, huh?"

"It's a fucking nightmare," I said. "I'm surprised you remembered."

"I didn't until you texted."

I shrugged. "You don't have to see her every day."

The line was pretty short for tickets and we quickly found ourselves moving through the theater looking for the right room. I used to come here all the time back when I went to school.

I forgot about that. "Hey Sophia, do you still have to go to fucking school?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm a Ward you know. I noticed _you_ aren't there."

I laughed. "What could they do to me?"

The best part of this plan was all I had to do was enjoy a movie with my friend. The hard part would be what happens at the very end. The two of us walked into the theater and took our seats near the middle-back.

The theater was dark, but I was a parahuman gifted with precise sight. Shamrock was in the back row. I didn't recognize anyone else.

"These ads are so bullshit," Sophia said. "Who's going to call a lawyer they heard of on a movie screen?"

"Who knows."

I never minded the previews, though watching them today was weird. A movie was advertised to release in June. Would I be around to see it?

"Thanks for inviting me, Mads," Sophia said. "Work is such a fucking bummer recently."

I nodded and turned my head away. Taylor said she would make me a thrall if I died, so I would likely be around to see a June movie. But as a thrall, I'm not sure I would care about it anymore.

Once the movie started proper all the idle chat cut off, including that between Sophia and me. All there was left to do was to enjoy the movie. For most people.

Twenty minutes later I pulled out the sleeve of cookies I'd smuggled in and set it on my lap. Once I'd made sure it wouldn't fall over I took out one of the cookies and popped it in my mouth.

The movie we were watching was poorly chosen on my part. It was the type of movie I loved, which meant that it was hard to sit here and watch it with all the other things going on. Psychological thrillers were so involved. And mysteries were fun to try to figure out.

I popped another cookie into my mouth. I couldn't give this film the attention it deserved today.

There must have been some PRT mooks lurking around somewhere in this theater. They wouldn't be in front of us because otherwise it would be obvious they were monitoring us. But there wasn't much room behind us, so they must have been real close.

I had to trust Shamrock to take care of them.

Sophia reached over and stole one of my cookies. "Hey," I whispered sharply. But she shamelessly ate it without my permission. I rolled my eyes, not that she could see it. She stole four before stopping.

Tactically, it helped that movies were a set length. Movies lasted an exact amount of time—in this case 158 minutes—that could be looked up and planned for. Shave off five because no one watches the credits and it's usable as a way to synchronize.

Unfortunately they turn the lights on moments after the credits start to roll. Which meant everything had to be quick. When it was clear the movie was nearing its end I took a glance over at Sophia. Her eyes were closed.

I slipped Bonesaw's thin mints back into my purse and put my hand on her leg. The timing here had to be perfect. As soon as that credit roll hit I had to move. I held my breath and waited. The theater had two exits, one of them leading back to the lobby and the other leading onto the street.

That first name hit and both Sophia and I moved across the theater in the dark to the street exit. She slumped against the wall I had teleported her next to while I grabbed the handle of the door and opened it. The light would cover our exit, as the audience's eyes were adjusted to the dark.

I spied the pickup parked in the parking lot across the street. Eighty-two-point-five meters was a long distance. Long enough that I could teleport directly to the car, and then once Sophia and I were at the car I could teleport her _into_ the car. She was put in the passenger seat while I made my way to the driver's seat.

The pickup was out of view by the time anyone in the theater managed to push through the crowd to get out. Shamrock would have to make her own way out, but that was planned. I drove the car alone to the warehouse that the thralls were preparing for Sophia.

Well, not quite alone. I took a look at the unconscious Sophia in the passenger seat.

 _Thanks for inviting me._ That was the last thing she said to me. I tried not to think about it and drove the car to the warehouse. It was secluded in the sense that it was only one of a hundred along the docks and they still didn't get much use. Even with HFC's efforts to clear out the boat graveyard, making the docks thrive again would take time.

Until that point we could make use of them all we wanted.

I pulled the pickup into a garage and shut the door behind me. When I parked the truck I put a hand on Sophia's shoulder and teleported her outside onto the warehouse floor. I followed her and took a look around. A thrall jogged up and waved me over towards the basement.

Rather than carry Sophia I did my usual trick and teleported with her. The stairs leading down into the warehouse basement were pretty old but they held. The thrall pulled the trapdoor shut.

Then he got to work. A couple of others were down here, including Kid Win, working together on some sort of cage. The thralls dragged Sophia into it and then wrapped a bunch of power cords around her. I noted that one of them tied part of the cord to a pole tightly before giving it some slack to the outlet.

It was clever. If Sophia tried to struggle there wouldn't be a way for her to pull the cord out of the wall.

Watching Sophia be bound and tied up was a strange feeling. She was my friend. I liked her. Emma did too, but now she hates Sophia just like her master. I'm the last one left.

After Sophia was bound they closed and locked the cage. A few seconds later it made a slight buzzing sound. "What is it?" I asked. "A Faraday cage or whatever?"

"No," Kid Win said. "Those do something different. It's just a cage with a buncha wires running through it."

If that was all it was we wouldn't have needed Kid Win for it. That he was here meant it was secure enough for Sophia, but more than a cage with wires in it. After the cage was locked and everything was done the thralls meandered away. I pulled up a metal folding chair and sat in it, staring at Sophia.

I opened my bag and took out the box of Bonesaw's thin mints. It had been pretty tricky to get this just right. I combined it with a normal box of thin mints and carefully counted out the number of cookies. The sleeve was packed in a specific order: three normal cookies, two drugged, one normal, two drugged, one normal, the rest drugged.

Sophia's personality was easy to predict. I couldn't _offer_ her a cookie, but if I ate them on my own she would definitely help herself. I just had to get the timing right so that I could eat a couple, she'd notice, and then reach for one herself. And because of the specific ordering I could always go for safe ones.

There was about half a sleeve left of poisoned cookies. I knew saving them was a good move. I wrapped up the sleeve , put it back in my bag and slid it against the wall. My part had been done. One success down, five left.

Taylor showed up before Sophia regained consciousness. She walked towards the cage and me. "You did it," she said. "Were you caught?"

"No, but they'll know it was us. Did yours go as planned?"

She sighed. "No. I ended up punching Bitch in the stomach."

"So?"

"It killed her."

I turned my gaze towards Sophia, slumped over in her chair all bundled up in electrical cords. This plan was enacted so we _didn't_ have to kill anyone, but the worst had happened.

...just one punch? _Taylor_ of all people killed some one, and it only took one punch. It was hard to think of any words to say.

"It's the nineteenth," I said.

"So you remembered."

"I did."

I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. It was a basic clock and it was unclear what it was doing in the basement of a warehouse like this. But it was working.

"Well?" Taylor finally asked.

"I don't know," I said. "This is a first for me. Anniversaries of good events are easy. You have a celebration. Anniversaries of sad events are also easy. You say condolences and go out and party to forget about it. But what do you do when—"

"—the sad event is your fault." Taylor finished. "If it helps, Emma has been pampering me all day. More than usual, I mean."

 _How do I act on the anniversary of the locker incident?_

That wasn't my style. And neither was this delicate tiptoeing act I was pulling off for some reason. I crossed my arms and exhaled. "Alright Taylor, let's square up. Both of us were hoping this locker bullshit would fade into the sunset, but it hasn't. So let's deal with it."

"I'm listening."

There was a reason Taylor couldn't let go. The locker incident ran through her mind over and over because from her perspective, the locker incident _wasn't_ just one terrible day. It was a culmination of a year and a half of torture. The locker incident was representative of everything that had happened to her.

The locker was pain. The locker was betrayal. The locker was despair.

Emma Barnes had betrayed Taylor Hebert. The price she paid for it was eternal loyalty. But I wasn't like Emma. I hadn't betrayed Taylor. I had been cruel to her from the start. We were enemies, nothing more.

Taylor had spent months hounding me. She had broken into my house and hurt me, even causing me to trigger. She turned me into a criminal. And at the end of it all _she got me to join her side._ I clenched my fist. I had paid my dues to her.

Wait. I... _had_ paid my dues to her. But—fuck me for being stupid.

"I'm sorry for not realizing it earlier," I said. "I think I was being a little self-centered."

"You?" Taylor asked. "Self-centered?"

"Ass."

Taylor smirked. "What did you realize?"

I stared at the cage. "It's Sophia, right?"

Emma may have betrayed Taylor, but it was Sophia who _poisoned_ Emma. And right now Sophia was the leader of the Wards. Karma was creeping up on her since she was at our mercy, but I hadn't considered of what this kidnapping might lead to.

Taylor walked around to the edge of the cage, adjusting her wings so she didn't smack me in the face with them. She stood right next to me and curled her hands around the bars of Sophia's cell.

"I want her, Madison." Taylor said. "I want her a lot more than I want you."

I stared into Taylor's eyes. There was an eerie glow to them. The path was clear to me now, even with Taylor enveloping me in her shadow. She'd grown over the past year to the point where she towered over me.

The path was clear to me, but it was hard to step down it.

"Then take her," I said.

Taylor gripped the bars harder. "I can't. There would be consequences. It's too much to risk so I can be a little selfish."

What an idiot. Even when I'm trying to offer you absolute power—or at least the feeling of it—you're thinking like that. "Taylor," I said softly. "Nothing is at risk. People are _afraid_ of you. They will let you do what you want, full stop."

"That's not how it works, Madison."

"It's _exactly_ how it works." I stood up. Taylor was still way taller than me. "The heroes don't want another Red Sky. Maybe with Alexandria back at the helm there's a solid plan to take you down, but we've also been digging our own trenches. If fighting breaks out again then the world will burn. And luckily you've shown yourself more than willing to burn it."

Taylor shook her head. "They're going to respond to this," she said sharply. "Even more if I bite her. It will destroy everything we've created."

"Maybe if it was anyone else." Explaining this to her would be difficult. "How do I put this? There are _expected_ actions for you to take and _unexpected_ actions for you to take. Enthralling Sophia is firmly in the expected category. The PRT will make a fuss and use it for leverage, but they're not going to start fighting with us again over it. As long as we don't do anything _unexpected,_ like making another grab for the city, our status quo will remain. No one wants to change it."

Taylor took a glance at the unconscious Sophia. She looked conflicted. It was just the three of us down here. I hadn't thought about this earlier, but if one of her thralls had locked that trap door there was no way for me to escape. Even with my teleportation.

I tried not to think about that.

Taylor rustled her wings. "There will be consequences, even if they aren't world-ending. What are they?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll tell you, but Taylor... you don't _need_ to know. You have an army of thralls who will clean up after you no matter what messes you make."

"Just tell me."

"Fine." I sighed. "I guarantee Calvert was waiting for you to make a move on Sophia. There's plans in place for when it happened and they definitely put high priority around today. They _wanted_ you to take her, Taylor. She's the leader of the Wards precisely so they can throw that in our face. Since this was planned for months they're going to contact us soon saying they know what we did. They'll throw some vague threats about us breaking the contract and demand we do something like stop selling tinkertech to China. It's hard to say precisely what they'll ask for. Something that will force us to act more subdued."

This response caused Taylor to put her head into her hands. "So what you're saying is my selfishness will weaken the entire organization."

"That's not..."

...what she should be saying. I crossed my arms and collapsed back down into the little metal chair. For a while now I've been trying to play to Taylor's desire for power. As long as she felt like she was ordering me around everything would be fine. The logic was sound and it even made a good story.

During high school Taylor was completely powerless against Sophia, Emma and me. So naturally she would be traumatized in such a way that she would desire that power for herself. She wouldn't be able to handle being that weak again.

Except _power_ was sitting on a golden throne in the high castle. Power was the ability to do whatever you wanted with no one to tell you otherwise. The grunt-work would be left to the grunts. Powerful people didn't need to concern themselves with anything so messy, they could live their lives however they want and an army of—in Taylor's case, thralls—would pave the roads she wished to walk on.

If Taylor wanted absolute power she wouldn't be asking me these questions. She would do whatever she wanted, order me around and smile when Sophia is brought to her without her having to lift a finger.

But she didn't smile. I'm confused.

My guess didn't feel _wrong._ There was evidence that pointed to Taylor wanting power. Tons of it.

I watched Taylor take out a phone and check something on it. "An update?" I asked.

Taylor nodded. "Faultline was semi-successful. They got Tagg but not Velocity."

 _Like_ power, but not power? Taylor wasn't relaxing at home while her thralls tended to her every need. She was _here._ She went into the office every day. She went out on every call during the hours she could.

 _Like_ power. Power was close to the true solution. It had been too good a predictor of Taylor's behavior for it to be completely wrong. But the contradiction in my mind is Taylor not acting like the king in the high castle. She's acting more like a chief of staff.

Taylor's _doing_ things. Micromanaging. Though that's getting too far away, it's not micromanagement. She has Emma handle tons of stuff for her. But she likes to stay informed about everything and likes to make decisions on everything.

Leadership. It could have been a strong sense of leadership. But that didn't sit right either, if only because she didn't _act_ like a leader. She gave no motivating speeches nor worried about making sure everyone was satisfied and working hard. It was undeniable that Taylor was a leader, but she didn't aspire to be one.

Maybe something like a control freak. She had to make sure every little part was running perfectly. A condition arising from a lack of faith in the abilities of others. That's plausible.

"Aren't you going to try to convince me of something?" Taylor asked.

"Of what?"

"I don't know. To do it? Not to do it? Surely you have some opinion on the matter."

I nodded. "She's my friend, Taylor. I don't want her to be taken away."

Control. That's something Taylor certainly didn't have back in Winslow. And after Emma's betrayal and the administration's effort in doing nothing Taylor would have no trust or faith to spare for anyone. She could have learned that to get anything done she had to do it herself.

It explained why she didn't isolate herself in her office and enjoy having an army of thralls. She _didn't trust anyone_ to keep HFC running. If she wasn't overseeing everything then she was sure it would crumble into dust.

Every plan that activates without her knowledge must make her incredibly nervous. No wonder she's so stressed right now. She had to leave five separate operations to five separate teams, and the one thing she _did_ have control over she failed at.

If that's the right answer, then—

"I'm not asking you to trust me, Taylor." I said. "But HFC isn't a shield for just you. HFC is a shield for me. And for Faultline and the rest of the crew. And even for Parian and the others who've joined us. HFC protects all of us, so we all want it to stay strong. You should trust in that at least."

She nodded. There was only one option open to her now if she really needed control. The only way she could take control of this situation would be to walk away. Sophia had to stay captured, but she didn't need to be enthralled. Taylor would pardon her for her sins.

"We'll keep her secure," Taylor said. "There's no reason to enthrall her. It'll only hurt us."

Right. Well at least I get to keep my friend—

A shrill laugh came from the cage. Taylor and I both spun towards Sophia. She was cackling with a grin on her face and definitely, one-hundred-percent conscious. Damn it. There's no way I could know how much of our conversation she heard.

"Pathetic," she spat. "After going so far too. I thought you were predators. And you're going to let me go?"

Taylor didn't say a word. She stared at Sophia, no doubt trying to think of what to do now. Our time limit had run out. "Hi, Sophia." I said. "Have a nice nap?"

"Fucking ruthless, Mads," she said. "Didn't think ya had it in ya."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Want to know something a little juicy as a reward?"

I didn't respond. This could have been a trap. If Sophia told us something we weren't supposed to know then the PRT could argue we tortured her for information. I was about to open my mouth to say no, but she spoke anyways.

"Remember that night back in June? We were having a phone call that Hebert over here rudely interrupted."

"Yes. Of course." That was the night I triggered.

Sophia laughed again. "I made it in time."

I didn't know what that meant. "What?"

"I heard Hebert on the phone." Sophia didn't even try to break out of her restraints. She looked relaxed. "I was on patrol. Made it to your house right as Taylor threw you into that dresser."

What?

Taylor looked just as surprised. "Wait," she said. "You were watching us then?"

"Yup."

"Then—" I started, but choked on my words. "Then why didn't you do anything?"

Sophia smiled at me. "Because I had already seen Hebert devour Emma and I wanted to see her devour you too." She turned her gaze back to Taylor. "I'm sure you remember our little dance the night _you_ triggered. When you silently stalked behind Emma, tackled her to the pavement and tore off her blouse? I thought for a moment you were going to rape her. But then—" She broke into another laugh, unable to complete her thought. "You—you ha ha ha!" She took a few deep breaths. "You literally devoured her! And your transformation from prey to predator was so amazing. The best thing I've ever seen."

Taylor took a step back. "You... you just watched? The entire time?"

" _Uh huh,"_ she exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you, Hebert. That meek little mousy girl from Winslow has the entire city in her grip. People tremble at the thought of facing you in a dark alley. Those who've wronged you stay up at night wondering if they're next."

Sophia licked her lips. There was fire in her eyes. I knew Sophia was a little wrong in the head but—for her to _watch?_ I clenched my hand into a fist. I cut a glance to Taylor but she was awe.

"What's wrong with you?" Taylor asked. She was seriously asking.

"You know it didn't have to be that way," she said. "Back when we first met and I pushed you around a little bit? All you had to do was push back. Stand up to me. But you didn't. You _let_ me bully you."

Taylor wasn't startled. She had realized that already. "Soph, Jesus Christ." I said. "Don't you even realize what sort of situation you're in?"

Sophia made a mock struggle against her restraints. "Come on, Mads. I've been waiting for this for a long time." She focused her glare back on Taylor. "So, seriously Hebert? You're going to let me go?"

Taylor gritted her teeth. "I _was._ "

"You're such a pussy," she yelled. "Fight me, you whore. It wasn't Emma or Mads who ruined your life, it was me. I'm the one who decided to torture you. To break you. To destroy you." She tried to phase through her restraints and the power cords immediately zapped her. She didn't scream but I could see the pain on her face. Sophia fought through it and forced a grin on her face. "You fucking wimp, this is why I tortured you. Because you _let me._ "

Sophia, what the fuck are you saying? It's like she was _trying_ to get Taylor to bite her. She couldn't be that seriously messed up in the head.

She struggled against her restraints again to no avail. Her gaze was fixed on Taylor the entire time.

"Taylor," I said softly. "What do you want to do?"

Taylor took a step forward and ripped the door off the cage. "She isn't giving us any other choice," she growled. Taylor barely fit, her wings brushing up against all four sides. They blocked the view and I had to maneuver around the cage to see in.

I saw Taylor take a taser out of her pocket and hold it up in front of Sophia. I couldn't see the expression on Sophia's face.

"If I zap you with this you'll die," Taylor said. "It will be extremely painful."

"Bring it, bitch."

If it wasn't for my perfect sight I wouldn't have seen the trembling of Taylor's hand. But it was there. "Sophia, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Taylor asked.

"It ain't just me." Sophia laughed. "You've been in this city as long as I have. You've seen its true face. Am I the abnormal one?"

Taylor grabbed Sophia's hair and pressed the taser up against her neck. She didn't turn it on though. There was no tell-tale click click click of the electricity going through Sophia's veins.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" Taylor asked. "When you're my thrall I'm going to make you _nice._ I'll dress you up in a maid outfit and have you run around asking people if you can serve them. You'll make tea and dust off tables and ask people how their day is going." She pushed the taser into Sophia's neck harder without actually turning it on. "But most of all I'm going to make you apologize. Over and over and over for every little thing. You'll get on your hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. Sophia Hess will be the weakest most pathetic little girl on the planet."

There hadn't been time for Sophia to say anything in response. _Click click click click—_

Sophia slumped over in the chair. Taylor grabbed her head with her hand and pushed it aside to expose her neck.

I made sure not to look away as Taylor fed.


	43. HFC End

**HFC End**

Emma had arrived, taken Sophia's lifeless body and heaved it over her shoulder. Taylor and I watched her then dump Sophia into a van, get in and drive off towards the office. There was nothing that would indicate Emma cared about what happened to her former friend.

"Is that going to be me soon?" I asked.

Taylor crossed her arms. "Depends on whether or not HFC wins Jack's little game. We have a month left."

"Suppose I lose my powers," I said. "Will you come hunt me down in the middle of the night?"

"If I didn't what would you do with your life? Stay at HFC?"

On paper I would still be the director. But without my powers I would have no way to defend myself. Even if Taylor promised and earnestly didn't plan on biting me I was still vulnerable from all the _other_ people on the planet who wanted to kill me. The quick healing and invulnerability of a thrall was necessary for anyone not naturally a cape.

I didn't answer Taylor's question. Instead I headed for the exit of the warehouse. "Let's get through this month first," I said.

Taylor silently followed me out of the warehouse as the thralls locked the place back up. We started walking back to the office together but it was awkward. Of all the things we were, friends was not one of them.

I dug my fists into my sweatshirt. "Now what?"

Her wings drooped. "I don't get it. Why did Sophia say all that?"

"She believes in personal strength. Thinking back, it would have been weird ifshe _had_ intervened to help." I shrugged. "Unlike you I _did_ push back against Sophia's bullying when we first met. I suppose that's why it was Emma, Sophia and me bullying _you_ instead of you, Emma and Sophia bullying _me_."

Taylor didn't respond. I had tried to phrase it in a way to imply that we could have easily switched places. But that wasn't even close to the truth. Taylor Hebert was a person susceptible to bullying and Madison Clements was not. History would have never been reversed.

"Was this really the right move?" Taylor asked. "This operation of ours?"

"Face it Taylor," I said. "We'd been squandering our time."

I didn't say it—no one ever said it—but many people in this town took one of the cures by now. They were freely available and the tattoos were more than halfway across people's faces. Everyone was literally face-to-face with reality.

Unless a miracle cure not named Panacea stepped onstage then Brockton Bay would have another major dip in its population.

After an uncomfortable walk Taylor and I made it back to the office. Emma had beaten us there since she took the truck. Taylor excused herself to check on her soon-to-be thrall while I went back up to my office.

Besides Sophia, who was enthralled, none of our prisoners were kept in the HFC building. That would be far too obvious. We had taken Tagg, Grue and Regent and placed the three of them in separate warehouses in the area.

Tagg and Regent did not need any special containment, but Grue did. We had taken Squealer's digger and dug a pit deep enough that Grue's darkness wouldn't be able to spill over. There was a simple wired camera hooked up to make sure he was still alive, but other than that it wasn't anything but a hole.

It was on the cruel side, but I had no love to share for him.

When I made it back to my office Vista was hanging out watching my TV. "Welcome back," she said. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I said.

"So not fine then," Vista said. "You okay?"

"I'm fi—" I stopped myself and rolled my eyes. "Most everything went as planned. I'll get over it."

Vista stood up from the couch and came towards me.

"What is this?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

She smashed into me and wrapped her arms around my torso. "I'm hugging you."

"I don't want this," I said.

"Hush."

Vista wasn't that shorter than me despite being thirteen. That made me a little sad. Her warmth felt nice though.

It was about an hour later that Faultline came barging into my office. I had expected the PRT to respond earlier than that, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Maybe they were putting on a farce of being slow to the uptake.

"About time," I said as Faultline opened my door.

Her expression was darker than I expected. "It's not about what you think it's about," she said. She spied the TV that we were watching and grabbed the remove out of Missy's hands.

"Long story short," Faultline said as she turned on the news. There was a big breaking news graphic but it wasn't apparent what had happened. "Jack and Bonesaw revealed how many people have taken each cure," she said.

"What?" I exclaimed. "They—they _know_ that?"

"And told everyone," Faultline repeated. "There, they're showing it. Fucking media, they have an animated bar graph of it already."

There was indeed a snazzy little bar graph. It showed us in red, the PRT in blue and the Undersiders in white.

Twelve thousand people had taken the PRT's blue cure.

Ten thousand had taken ours.

Nine thousand had taken the Undersiders.

"Shit," I said. "This is the worst case scenario."

"Do you think they're lying?" Faultline asked.

She had a point. More than a point in fact. That the numbers were _that close_ alluded to Jack lying about them. But even if that were the case, "it doesn't change what we have to do." I said. "The truth doesn't matter."

"How so?"

"What matters is what everyone believes. And if everyone believes that it's true—or even if everyone _suspects_ that it _might be_ true—then Jack will have gotten the effect he wants."

The two of us paused our conversation while something happened on the TV. Director Calvert of the PRT started to make a statement. He looked like he had a long day but his words were strong and deliberate. Though at the end of his speech all he really ended up saying was that Jack was lying to stir up unrest. A couple of self-praising words about how the PRT had a handle on things and the speech was over.

I had forgotten exactly what my train of thought had been before Calvert started giving his speech.

"That was expected," Faultline said. "But I think I see the issue."

Yeah. Jack makes a claim, the PRT denies it, but in the end the damage was done. People are going to wonder just how many people _did_ take the cure of whatever side. That seed of doubt was planted.

Faultline scrunched her brow. The realization slowly came over the both of us. The sad, terrible event that was around the corner.

Because the solution was obvious.

The people of Brockton Bay wouldn't hesitate once they realized what they had to do. If the only way to survive was to make sure that your team had the most members...

...then all you had to do was lower the number of people on the other teams.

Almost in response to our thoughts the tattoos on our bodies slowly changed. They had been black before but now the tattoos on Faultline and me were red. So was the one on Missy. Who had taken what cure was now clearly visible.

"Today the war starts," Faultline said.


	44. Interlude (Sophia)

**Interlude – Sophia Hess**

She was cold.

The shivers were like a bad fever. Sophia was on a bed but she didn't know any more than that. And at the moment she only cared about pulling the blankets around herself to try to stop the shivers. But it didn't help. The blankets did nothing at all. Her body wasn't absorbing the heat that the blankets were trying to provide.

Sophia didn't have the capacity to think about where she was or what had happened to her. Her mind was cloudy. All she could do was focus on the fact she was shivering. Wild thoughts crossed through her brain that made no sense at all.

Then she finally felt a warmth touch her forehead. She opened her eyes to see Emma, an old friend. Sophia didn't process the implication, all she felt was the warmth of her hand.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"B-B-B-B-Bad." Sophia's teeth chattered as she tried to speak.

"It will stop eventually," Emma said. She took her hand away and the warmth left. Sophia couldn't see what Emma was doing since she had her eyes clamped shut. She did her best to fight the shivering of her body.

Sophia wrapped herself in the blankets again. Then re-wrapped herself. But it didn't do any good. The only thing that had provided any warmth at all was Emma's hand. Sophia turned her head to try to find her but she was gone from the room.

She didn't know how long it had been since Emma spoke. It could have been hours. Or minutes. Sophia was drifting in and out of consciousness and she clung onto what Emma said. It will stop eventually.

But eventually wasn't coming. Sophia held onto herself and cursed the ceiling. She cursed whatever was making her this weak. Her mind filled with hate and loathing but it was undirected. Baseless hate at the situation.

At some point the shivers got better, only to turn worse at the slightest shift. Sophia had taken to staying as still as possible in a vain hope it would make it more bearable. It wasn't even pain. Her body was just... shivering. She wasn't in control of it.

Every attempt to calm herself and get warm failed. She was cold, shivering and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Eventually she stopped trying and bore through it, but it wasn't pain. Pain she could handle.

She couldn't control her body.

The thoughts wouldn't even line up. She tried to focus on what she would do if she had to defend herself but it was impossible. Her thoughts wouldn't make logical connections. The best she could do was keep repeating things to herself.

Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. As long as she could keep something in her brain that was enough. It was the best she could do.

Fight.

 _Who?_

The ceiling was white. Sophia stared at the popcorn ceiling and turned her head to look at the wall. It was red. That was a weird wall color. Emma had been in here earlier...

 _Ah!_

Sophia remembered. The memory was so vivid. She had finally been captured by Hebert and thrown in a cage. And then Hebert had gotten up close and sunk her fangs right into Sophia's neck. She could remember the feeling of it piercing her skin. That feeling of the blood draining from her veins.

She laughed.

Of course, that's what happened. It all made sense. Sophia had been captured and eaten by Hebert. Devoured. Dominated. She had fallen prey to the greatest predator in Brockton Bay. And now she was being digested. Of course it was uncomfortable. Of course Sophia couldn't bear it. This was the fate of all prey.

Sophia leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. There was no use fighting it. It was useless to pound on the walls of Hebert's stomach, Sophia was already being torn apart. She was prey.

The shivers slowly died down as the last remaining vestiges of Sophia Hess were dissolved in Hebert's stomach. And then they stopped.

…

…

...but Sophia was still there.

She laid there on the bed, fully conscious. Now what?

Sophia slid her legs off the side of the bed and sat up. The shivers had stopped. She was still cold and her body felt weak, but she could move it. For a moment she sat there unsure if she was really all right. But she put that thought aside and pushed herself up.

She could stand. It was working. Barely. Sophia stumbled across the room and nearly fell over. Rather than standing on her own she used the wall for support and made her way over to the door. She didn't feel like she was a person. It was more like she was a ghost.

Ghost. The word rang in her mind. She had been eaten, torn apart and digested. What came after that was death, and what came after _that_ was... being a ghost. Undoubtedly that was what had happened to her. That was the current state of Sophia Hess. It was so clear to her.

That being said she still had to use the door to leave the room. When she opened it she saw a couple of people, only one of whom she recognized as Emma. She was arguing over a clipboard with someone but stopped when she saw Sophia standing in the door.

"Sophia, you're standing," she exclaimed. "Good for you."

"I-I, uh." It was hard for her to get her words out. She felt very weak from all the shivering.

Emma put her hand on Sophia's shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll feel better once you go see master."

The man Emma was talking to pouted. "Lucky," he said under his breath. Emma handed him the clipboard.

"Just do the first page," Emma said. "I'll double check the rest." After he left Emma turned back to Sophia. "Follow me, we gotta do a few things and then you get to see master."

Sophia followed but the situation didn't parse correctly in her mind. Master? The memories were there. Hebert was a master-class parahuman. Emma and the other thralls were under her control. But Sophia didn't feel like that. She was a ghost, floating among the world without purpose.

The thought was ice. Floating without purpose was a fate worse than death. Being nothing, like a blade of grass or a leaf on a tree was worse than even prey. She hated that. She didn't want to be that.

Emma led Sophia up some stairs. It was hard for her to walk but Emma helped her up. "It's always a little tough," she said. "I bet your thoughts are all over the place, right?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. It was true, though Sophia felt she should have denied it to protect herself. Her thoughts _were_ all over the place.

Once they reached the top of the stairs Emma led Sophia down a hallway. Along the way someone came around a corner.

"Hi Madi," Emma said. "Look who's awake."

Madison took a glance at Sophia. "Christ, it's already been twelve hours?" She stared at the mug in her hand. "I'm going to need another cup of this."

She didn't say a word to Sophia and pushed past the two of them. Sophia didn't comprehend the reaction and instead let herself be led on by Emma. "Here we are," she said. The name on the door of the office said Parian. Emma knocked on it a few times. No one responded but Emma opened it anyways.

"We're coming in," she said.

The room was wall to wall with clothing and dolls. Sophia found it revolting how cute and cuddly everything was. She had an instinctual urge to light it on fire.

Parian was asleep on a couch Sophia hadn't noticed at first. Emma rocked her by the shoulder. "Parian, wakey wakey."

She turned over and looked at the two of them. She mumbled quietly to herself and accepted that she had to wake up. Parian was happy to go at her own pace, slowly brewing a cup of tea and sipping it on the couch while Emma and Sophia awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

Eventually Parian mustered the brain capacity to offer them a seat. Though just because she said it didn't mean there was anywhere to actually sit. Emma slid onto the couch next to her but Sophia was left out in the cold.

At least she was capable of standing on her own two feet. Sophia would be happy to remain upright.

Once Parian had finished her tea she handed the cup to Emma, who rushed off to go clean it in the sink. "Alright Sophia," she said, "let's get you dressed. I'm really excited about this one."

"About what?" Sophia asked.

Parian walked over to one of the clothing racks and pulled off two items. "Ta da," she said. She was still clearly tired.

In each of her hands were two enormously overdone maid uniforms. Sophia didn't know which one was worse, the one that had more curls than a spring or the one that the creepy guy across the street had at least five of in his closet.

"What?"

Parian waved the curly one around. "So, what suits you better?" Then she waved the skimpy one around. "These two styles are fundamentally different so this has gotta come first."

Sophia put her hand to her mouth. "You don't expect me to wear that, do you?"

Parian looked confused. "Yeah. I thought your master commanded it?"

Sophia's master... did she mean Hebert? Hebert had eaten her, but it wasn't like Hebert ruled over Sophia as her master. After being eaten, prey is digested and—

—and becomes _part_ of the predator. That's what happens to the prey that gets digested. They are absorbed.

There was nothing left of Sophia Hess, she was simply part of Hebert's body. Being a ghost was silly, ghosts weren't real. Sophia was _part of_ Hebert. Her role was to obey the brain and nothing more. It was the fate of all prey.

"R-Right," Sophia said in barely more than a rasp.

"Good." Parian smiled. "Now, which one? Normally I would pick the thicker one because it's winter, but the cold's not an issue for you. The lighter one gives you more mobility but _does_ sacrifice some functionality." She pouted. "Oh, this one is so cute. But I don't know if it's really useful for a maid."

Sophia crossed her arms. "The less revealing one. I'm not a slut."

"Language," exclaimed Emma from the doorway. She was holding a two-way radio in her hand but set it down on a table as she entered the room. "Don't swear."

"Don't swear?" Sophia asked incredulously. "Do you know me?"

Emma smacked her on the back of the head. "Listen Soph, master is pretty pissed off at you still. I guess it hadn't hit you yet, huh? But you're going to have to change your attitude if you ever want to see her."

– _When you're my thrall I'm going to make you nice._

Sophia remembered what Hebert had said before she sunk her fangs into her neck.

– _I'll dress you up in a maid outfit—_

"Shit she's actually following through with it..." Sophia said under her breath.

"Language!"

She had no right to complain. Sophia was part of Hebert. The legs did not disobey the brain. The heart did not disobey the brain. Nothing disobeyed the brain. So she nodded.

"Okay, let's get started," Parian said. "Off with those rags."

Sophia disrobed and almost immediately Parian got the first maid uniform on her. It didn't fit well at first but the outfit literally changed form. Parian's power at work. Even when it felt like a snug fit Parian kept making minor adjustments here, there and everywhere.

"The frills aren't just for style, you know," Parian said. "Admittedly I _did_ overdo them so I'm toning it down. But for a maid's uniform it's useful to have loops so you can hold tools in them. Loops look ugly unless they're disguised with frills. I dunno if that's the actual history though."

Parian stepped back and admired her work for a moment.

"I didn't really want to go with the red since maids aren't supposed to stand out." She approached Sophia and made some more adjustments. "But since a lot of our walls are red it actually works."

"You're into designing clothes I take it," Sophia said.

"Is it that obvious?" Parian asked. She stepped back for a moment and looked at Sophia. Then she grabbed a frilly headpiece and tied it around Sophia's head.

Sophia was about to say something along the lines of how dumb of a hobby Parian had, but held her tongue. She was supposed to be _nice._ That's what her master, Hebert, demanded of her. And it was not the place of digested prey to disobey. That thought sat well in her mind.

Parian shook her head and removed the hairpiece. "Damn, I just hate this thing. I know it's a staple but I think you just look so much better without it." She twirled the frilly headdress around her finger. "It doesn't serve a purpose anyways. The Victorian era had a thing for hats to mark social standing but we don't really do that anymore."

Emma wandered around and stood next to Parian. "Lemee see," she said.

Sophia had to stand there silently as Parian put the hat back on her, then took it off, then put it on, then took it off.

"I dunno," Emma said. "I get your point but it looks like something is missing without it."

Parian put her finger to her chin before running over to her desk and grabbing something inside it. "Here, try this," she said. A simple hairband was slipped onto Sophia's head.

"Not frilly enough," Emma complained. Parian put a finger to it. "Now it's too frilly." This went back and fourth until finally they settled on the perfect amount of frillyness. Sophia was completely unaware of what was happening.

But the two of them stood back and were nodding in agreement. "We won't know for sure unless it's helpful in cleaning though," Parian said. "But it definitely looks the part. Here, Sophia, the mirror's over here."

Parian showed Sophia to the full mirror. There was a strange fear of seeing herself in it that crept through her brain but she pushed it down.

Sophia did not like how she looked and she would never dress like this if it was her choice. But it wasn't, she was doing as instructed. Nor did her opinion on it matter. It was only clothing in the end.

"It's fine," Sophia said.

"Great," Parian said. "Take it off and I'll clean it. You're filthy, go take a shower."

Emma thought this was a good idea and dragged Sophia away. However, there weren't actually any showers. Instead Emma showed Sophia downstairs to a small hallway with four doors.

"This is the bathing area," she explained. Then she pointed to a panel next to the door. "You can use this panel to turn on the bath. It will automatically fill up and this light will turn green when it's ready. You can also drain and clean the tub from here."

Sophia stared at the panel. "Fancy," she said.

"I know, it's great." Emma showed Sophia how to use it and they started the bath. She could hear it filling up across the door. Sophia put her hand on the knob and entered the bathroom.

A few seconds later she came right back out, her heart beating in her chest. She could still stand but she was having trouble breathing. "Wha... what...?"

Emma laughed. "Figured you should experience it yourself."

"Experience what?"

"We're not so good with running water. Still water is fine, but running water is no good."

Sophia remembered something like that from back in the PRT. Master apparently had some weakness to water. Everyone had that weakness though. Sophia clenched her fists that such a stupid weakness existed. It was like someone was playing a cruel joke.

"This is why we have these neat panels," Emma said. "So we don't have to be near running water. FYI, the plumbing in this place is extremely minimal." She turned and looked down the hallway. "In any case, I have work to do. You can wear one of the robes in there until Parian gets your uniform ready."

Emma ran off and Sophia found herself alone in the little hallway. There wasn't anywhere for her to go so she stood still while the bath filled up. The panel didn't give any indication how long it would take.

Eventually the yellow LED turned green. Sophia guessed this meant the bath was ready and indeed it was when she opened the door. The room was nice. There were towels and robes hanging on the walls and an assortment of bathing gels and the like.

She didn't do anything fancy. Sophia took off her clothes and got in the tub. Immediately she noticed she couldn't tell what temperature the water was. She could feel the texture but the temperature wasn't noticeable.

Sophia was sad the bath wasn't as enjoyable as she hoped. As she sunk into the temperatureless water she put her hand over her heart. She had suspected but now she confirmed it. She had no heartbeat

After her bath she dried off with one of the towels and then put on a robe. The panels in the hallway were fairly simple so Sophia worked out how to drain the tub.

Afterwards she wandered out of the hallway to a small lounge. There were two people Sophia didn't recognize sitting on a couch watching TV. She glanced around the room trying to get a layout for the place.

Out of some sort of curiosity Sophia wandered down one of the hallways. There were doors on either side that had numbers. With a shrug she opened one of them. Inside was a man at least ten years older than her without a shirt.

"Hi," he said. "Are you Sophia?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm Rick." He stuck his thumb to his chest. "Just an average dude. You're lucky to be so special to the master. I'm basically a stranger to her."

Sophia didn't feel particularly special. It could have been because she and Hebert knew each other for a few years, but now that didn't matter. Their dance had ended with Sophia's loss and that was that. Predators did not think about their prey after consuming them. They rested with a full belly until the next day in which they would find something new to hunt.

The man wasn't bothered at Sophia staring into his room. He just climbed into a bunk and went to bed. Sophia looked at a clock and noticed it was seven in the morning.

She left and closed the man's door.

Parian caught up to her eventually. "Here," she said and handed Sophia a stack of clothes. Sophia was pretty sure there was more than one outfit.

"What am I supposed to do with all of these?" She asked.

"Put the extras in your room," she said. "Taylor said this is the only outfit you'll need."

"I don't have a room."

"D-2," said one of the thralls on the couch. Parian nodded at his word and turned around to leave. As Sophia had investigated earlier the rooms were well numbered so it wasn't hard to find D-2.

Inside was a twin bed and a dresser. On top of the dresser was a small clock that read seven-thirty. There was nothing else in the room.

Sophia put the stack of clothes on top of the dresser and picked the uniform on top. It was a pain to put on but doable by herself.

There wasn't a mirror to check how she looked but she didn't want to know anyways. After she got dressed she sat on the edge of her bed and waited. There wasn't anything else to do.

She watched the clock tick and the minute hand turn. The clock turned all the way to eight-fifteen before Emma opened the door.

"Alright, time to meet the master," Emma said.

Sophia shot up and nodded. The walk was long and each step she took sent a jolt up her spine. She didn't know what she was feeling. The route was the same they took to Parian's office except they kept going around the corner and down to the end of the hall.

Emma knocked on the door and then opened it. The two of them went inside.

She was sitting on their left. The ultimate predator. The one who had taken Sophia's flesh and blood for herself. Her wings, her fangs, her eyes, her hair, her skin, her _everything._ She was the one who stood above everyone else.

Sophia fell to her knees.

"Hello Sophia," said the ultimate predator.

She didn't respond. She sat on her knees and stared.

"Nothing to say?"

Sophia shook her head, but it was the wrong action because the ultimate predator's smile flickered.

"Really? Nothing at all?" She put her hand on the couch and leaned to one side. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No."

"Not even that, huh?" The ultimate predator seemed to be getting angry. "What do you want?"

"I don't know."

After a few seconds a smile crept back across the ultimate predator's face. "Why don't you know that?"

"Because you haven't told me yet."

The smile was wide. "Good. Let's alleviate that confusion of yours. But first..." She crossed one leg over the other. "Take this boot off and massage my foot."

It was an order. It resonated. The brain shot a signal down the spine to little Sophia, telling her to do something. She crawled on her knees towards the master as the master rested her foot on Sophia's shoulder. Sophia undid the laces and carefully took off the boot, followed by the socks.

"Listen carefully," the master said. Sophia had pressed her thumbs against the crevasse of the master's foot and started the massage. "You are a weak and pathetic creature who cannot do anything. You may have memories of being a parahuman but I assure you this is false. You have no power. You are a useless and frightened little girl. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The memories didn't match up in her mind, just like master had said. The details why didn't matter, they must be false.

"The only thing you're good for is serving others. You're such a coward that if anyone asks you to obey, you're too afraid to say no. So you'll do anything for anybody. And right now that somebody is me. From now on, this building is your entire world. There is no outside."

"Yes." Sophia tried different grips on the master's foot to see which got the best responses. She really must be useless if she couldn't even do this well.

"You are going to keep it clean and organized. And you will serve everyone here and do anything that is asked of you. That is the entirety of your existence. When you are not doing those things you will go to your room and sit quietly or sleep until you are needed."

"Yes."

"Good," the master said again. Then she pulled her foot back and gave Sophia a swift kick in the face. Sophia toppled over backwards, too weak to be able to withstand the blow. The master laughed as Sophia crawled back only to be kicked again. And then again.

It didn't matter to Sophia that her master was happy. She was doing as she was told. That was all she had to do from now on. That was the extent of her existence.

It only took a few days for her to get the hang of how things worked around the HFC building. There were living quarters for the thralls but they were minimalistic. Sophia hadn't gotten everyone's name but she managed to count eighteen different thralls that lived there.

The most important ones were Emma, Bakuda and Squealer. They weren't treated with any more respect than anyone else but it was always those three, especially Emma, that the rest of the thralls turned to.

The thralls stayed on the first floor. The second floor was where the rest of the people went about their business. Faultline, Madison and the like.

The master made sure to spend an hour each day down in the lounge with the thralls. Everyone always flocked to her during these times, but Sophia stood quietly in the corner waiting to be called on.

For the first couple of days the master played with her. But after a week the master stopped coming by. Sophia wasn't sure if the master had gotten bored or if she was too busy to play with her anymore. Which left most of her time to work.

"Sophia, you missed a spot," said Charlotte.

Sophia looked around on the floor but couldn't find anything. "Uh, where?"

Charlotte slid a plate off the coffee table onto the ground. "There."

"I'm sorry," said Sophia. She picked the plate up and then started trying to pick the crumbs out of the carpet. She would have used the mini vacuum, but Charlotte was watching TV and that would make noise. So she took a damp cloth to the carpet instead to try to pick up the crumbs.

"Looks like some fighting broke out today," Charlotte said. Sophia glanced up at the TV quickly. There was some breaking news headline about a large fight downtown.

Sophia didn't say anything. She wasn't sure if Charlotte was fishing for a response. Better to say nothing at all and silently work.

"I'm glad we don't have to deal with this tattoo nonsense," she said.

She was right about that. The tattoo that used to be all over Sophia's body was long gone. In fact, a lot of her old scars were healed. It made perfect sense. She was the master and the master was invulnerable.

The thralls usually tried to keep up with what was happening with their master, but Sophia wasn't included in the conversations. All she could do was eavesdrop while cleaning. It didn't matter what they said, it was talk of the outside world. But Sophia didn't have an outside world. Everything that mattered was within the walls of the HFC building.

By her second week Sophia had a solid handle on how to take care of the building. The thralls had a regular schedule so it was easy to work around. The rest of the office was anything but. Faultline tried to keep a regular schedule but didn't like having Sophia around. The rest of her crew was in and out as they pleased.

It took all the way until February for her to run into Madison again.

"Hello," Sophia said with a bow. They had passed by in the hallway.

Madison didn't respond and strode past her.

"Um," Sophia said. "Are you avoiding me?"

"The help shouldn't speak unless spoken to," Madison said curtly. She didn't even turn around. Sophia shut her mouth and didn't say anything else.

The master was the next one down the hallway. "Sophia, bring some coffee to the situation room," she said.

Sophia bowed. "Yes master."

She followed master to the situation room, but then walked past towards the kitchen. She saw most of the people who worked up here in there so she would need to make a lot of coffee. She filled the pot all the way to the top and poured a bunch of coffee into the filter.

After a couple of minutes it was ready so Sophia put the pot on a tray along with a bunch of mugs. There was a small table Sophia usually went to in the situation room to set the drinks down. Madison was giving some kind of presentation.

"The PRT has roadblocks all over this area," she said. Sophia imagined she was pointing to a map but couldn't look. She had to tend to the coffee. "And are patrolling around here. We, on the other hand, are taking this block all the way down here to fifth. So far it's been working but we all know what's coming."

Once the mugs were poured Sophia went to each person around the table and gently set the cup down in front of them.

"We keep telling everyone to trust us but our plan is crap," said Shamrock. "Let's not fuck around. We were hoping for some last minute miracle and it hasn't come."

Madison crossed her arms. "So what, do you propose we start mowing down the blues in the streets?"

Master stood up. "Absolutely not—"

"They're going to start doing it themselves," Shamrock interrupted. This was met with only silence. Sophia tried not to interrupt it but without anyone speaking every movement she made was noticeable.

"Wait," Madison said. She put her hand to her mouth. "I think... hmm."

"What is it?" Master asked.

"This is just an idea but think about it from Jack's perspective. He creates this game, splits the city into three factions and gets them to start killing each other. That's where we're going."

"Yes, and?"

"So what would the absolute worst thing Jack could do after causing riots like this? After this entire city is killing itself over these stupid tattoos, what would be the _worst thing_ that could happen?"

Sophia didn't know what Madison was on about but she didn't have to. All she had to do was pour the coffee. She was almost done with everyone but had a feeling she shouldn't go and bring Madison a cup. At least not at this right moment.

Faultline sipped her coffee and set the mug down. "The worst thing that could happen would be if the tattoos weren't lethal at all. If they were nothing but tattoos."

Madison nodded. "Jack's an expert in human behavior. He probably predicted how his game would go from the start. The tattoo actually being lethal might not have been necessary at all."

"Panacea would have noticed," Master said.

"Would she have?" Madison crossed her arms. "If the disease really is in the brain and Panacea doesn't do brains can she really say for certain whether or not it's lethal?"

Master didn't have a response but Faultline did. "It doesn't change anything," she said. "We aren't mowing people down in the streets. And even if it's not lethal we shouldn't gamble on it." She cut a glance to her left. "Despite what this person next to me may think."

Shamrock smiled.

Detecting an opening, Sophia swiftly brought a mug over to Madison. She gave Sophia a look, took the mug and blew softly on it. After a sip she set it down on the long table in front of her.

"None of us know what's going to happen," Madison said. She looked down into her coffee mug. "And the whole losing powers thing is still completely mysterious. We're out of time and we have nothing to show for it."

Sophia returned to the coffee tray and stood by it. If the PRT had some secret plan about any of this, she'd long since forgotten.


	45. Riot 5-1

**5.1 Riot**

I sat on the couch with the lights off and the glow of the TV illuminating the room. Dad had already gone to bed so it was just me. I never brought any of my thralls home except Emma, but even she was left back at HFC tonight.

Madison sent me a text an hour ago that was still displayed on my phone. _Happy Valentine's Day._

Nothing had developed over the month. We had removed the Undersiders but the white-cure presence hadn't diminished as much as expected. And we never captured Velocity so the PRT came at us stronger than ever.

A month and nothing to show for it. All that was left was to sit in the dark and wait for the match to ignite.

There was nothing on the news. I left the TV muted and watched channel three waiting for something to occur. That's what I've been reduced to. The necessary course of action to "win" Jack's game was obvious but I would never do it.

I couldn't stop the rest of the city from doing it though.

The second obvious thing was to enthrall everyone that wanted to be saved. But the logistics wasn't possible. Even after throwing away the agreed upon quota there were only fifty eight thralls and over half of them were hours away.

I doubted the possibility of mastering thousands of people over the course of a few days. All I could do was prepare for the worst: for dad, Faultline, Shamrock, Elle, Gregor and Newter to die. And Madison too. All I could do was prepare to enthrall them if Bonesaw's disease took hold and killed them all.

I was pathetic.

And here I was sitting on my couch in a dark room. Dinah's prophecy made today the day. The tattoo covered everyone's bodies and death was knocking on their doors.

It was two-thirty when a call finally came on the phone. So not to wake my dad I put it on vibrate. He wasn't aware of anything that was going on—or at least not the specifics—so to him today was just another day.

"Hi Faultline," I said.

" _There's been some sort of explosion on Lord street. It's a block away from the Palanquin. Just happened."_

"Should I—"

" _Naw, just stay where you are. I'll call back if it's important."_

Faultline hung up the phone. I stared at it before setting it back down on the coffee table and leaning back into the couch. It was the same old, beaten-up couch we'd had for years. I could easily afford to buy Dad a new one but neither of us wanted it. This couch was part of the house.

A few minutes later the television caught up to the events of the world. It was a quick reaction time on their part, but they didn't have any useful information about it.

I felt relieved. It was weird. I had been sitting on this couch in anticipation of something happening but now that it had I could finally calm my nerves. It was happening.

Now it was time to do something about it.

" _Hey T,"_ Faultline said calling me back. _"You're going to hate this."_

"What?"

" _The bomb that went off was definitely one of Bakuda's. It wasn't us but it sure looks like it was. The target was a blue bar."_

"A set-up?" I asked. I wasn't angry, just confused. The culprit obviously wasn't the PRT. Even if they were willing to blow up a bunch of civilians they wouldn't have blown up their own blues. But the Undersiders were either dead or locked away. "Why would someone bother to set us up?" I asked.

It was a little late to win the popularity contest. _"Blues will get angry at reds,"_ Faultline explained. _"Blues and reds will start killing each other. Whites win."_ Faultline coughed. _"Er, didn't mean for that to be racist."_

"Should I get going?"

" _Probably best if you don't. Call Clements, she'll know the best course of action."_

I hung up on Faultline and glanced at the TV before calling Madison. Even if the Undersiders were gone there were several thousand white-cured people in the city. And they would still be after us.

The news had gotten a truck to the bar and was filming. There was a frosty film of ice over what used to be a bar. It was definitely one of Bakuda's bombs. I even recognized it.

There were a bunch of people in the street watching it. It was two-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. There shouldn't have been that many people around, especially on Lord street.

I called Madison.

" _Hello?"_

"Madison, it's me. Should I go to this explosion site?"

" _Not yet. Are you watching channel three?"_

"Yeah."

" _Spitfire is on her way in an unmarked car. I don't want to give the people anything to start rioting over."_

"Sure." It was a solid plan. If we showed up in a car with a big HFC logo plastered over it and people were assuming we blew up the bar in the first place it would be bad. They might start rioting. Which we had to prevent.

An explosion rattled the windows of my house. I could feel it shake my body.

" _What the hell was that?"_ Madison asked. I rushed outside onto the front steps. There was a huge plume of smoke coming from what couldn't have been more than a couple of miles away.

"Fuck," I said. "There was another one."

" _God damn,"_ Madison said.

"We have to stop this," I said.

" _I don't even know where to begin,"_ Madison said. _"But let's get on com. You might as well coordinate."_

I hung up the phone and took one last look at the explosion before heading back inside. My headset was on the coffee table since we had expected something to happen. The benefits of having a precog on the team.

"Not so fast," said a voice. I spun around. Standing in the door of the hallway was a girl in a mask. Next to her, on his knees, was Dad. She had a knife to his throat.

I inhaled. "Who are you?"

"Imp, pleased to meet ya." She held the knife steady. "Though we've met plenty before, even if you didn't notice."

I didn't move and tried to figure out what to do. "I beg your pardon?" I asked. The knife wasn't right up against dad's throat but it was close enough to be dangerous. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down at my feet, probably doing his best to stay still.

Sorry dad, I tried really hard to prevent this sort of thing from happening. I had thralls watching the house at all hours of the day. Not even Madison knew who they were. How did this Imp person slip through?

"...you're an Undersider, right?" I asked. There couldn't have been any other explanation. It wasn't the PRT blowing people up, but it sure could have been an Undersider.

"Bingo, five stars for the dragon lady."

"I assume you want Grue and Regent back," I said.

"Two in a row, you're on fire. So anyways, here's my terms." Imp wiggled the knife. "If you haven't guessed I'm setting you up. We're going to start some riots, pit the blues against the reds, and come out on top. It's hard for me to say 'white's win,' but that's what'll happen."

"I literally heard that joke three minutes ago."

"Try being on a team with Regent." She laughed. "What we want is for you help us with our little story."

"I'm not going to go kill innocent people even _if_ you hold my dad hostage."

"I know. You're not nearly as mean as a person the media portrays you as," Imp said. "But see, pretty soon those nasty blues are going to fight back and a'splode one of the red neighborhoods. When that happens, make sure you help them out way more than you helped out at the other sites. Got it?"

I gritted my teeth. "You want HFC to show disproportionate favoritism to the red people."

"Sure, whatever," Imp said. "Do that and I'll let your papa go." She wiggled the knife again. "Oh, right, and let Regent and Grue go."

I gritted my teeth. "How can you do this?" I asked. "Artificially start a war?"

"You killed Bitch," she said. " _You're_ the one who took the gloves off. We gave everyone plenty of time to figure out the third option, you know. Neither of you came up with diddly."

That was also true. That didn't make me hate them any less though. "I'll have to contact my people."

Imp nodded. "Don't try anything or papa gets it."

I carefully stepped back over to the coffee table and took the earpiece off it. Imp was watching me intently as I put it in my ear. "Madison," I said.

" _Jeez, take you long enough to get on com?"_ She asked. _"We're sort of in the middle of something."_

"Yeah. I have an, uh." I looked at Imp. "Situation. One of the Undersiders is holding my dad hostage."

" _We captured all the Undersiders,_ _" s_ he said.

"Apparently not."

" _That's not...gah. Fuck, they have a stranger. I can't believe I forgot about that."_ I could hear Madison audibly sigh through the radio. _"What do they want?"_

"Us to help out the reds more than we help out the blues. And her team back."

" _So what she actually wants is for us to play into their narrative,"_ she echoed. _"And? What are we going to do?"_

The question still felt strange. Madison had a tendency to do things on her own regardless of my say so, but over the past few weeks she's been deferring to my judgment. It was weird.

But that wasn't what I should focus on right now. Madison was _always_ planning something. Right now I had to focus on the Undersiders.

"Play along," I said.

" _Got it."_ Madison had accepted that a little more readily than I would have liked. She should hate being jerked around by the Undersiders.

"Horray," said Imp. "We're all getting along."

I didn't banter. "Let my dad go."

Imp shook her head. "So far we've just been talking. When we see some action I'll let him go. Trust me, I don't want to hold a middle aged man at knife point any longer than I have to."

I didn't respond and neither did she. We stared at each other while the sounds of chaos outside slowly increased. Sirens echoed as the police and firefighters rushed to the site of the explosion. At one point a couple cruised by our street.

There wasn't much to say to Imp. Her motivation was simple and I couldn't poke into it. Nor could I fault them for wanting to survive.

"So, uh," Imp said after at least ten minutes of silence. "What's it like being a master?"

"One big barrel of laughs," I said coldly. "What's it like being whatever the hell you are?"

Imp shook her head. "I meant specifically the master part. Everyone hates being a parahuman when it comes down to it. And I'm a stranger by the way."

Madison was right. First time I've encountered a stranger.

"You're thinking it's your first time encountering a stranger," Imp said. "How cute."

Somehow that last line of hers really stung. Even more than the apparent mind-reading. Fucking strangers, I have a feeling I'm going to hate them.

"Seriously," Imp said. "It must be nice to have people waiting on you hand and foot. Worshiping you like a freaking god."

"It has its benefits."

"I'm the polar opposite," Imp said. "Nobody even knows I exist."

Was that some sort of joke? Imp was acting like it was but I didn't get it. Probably a stranger thing.

A few more minutes went by without anything happening. I kept looking for Imp to loosen her guard but she never did. If for even a second she took the knife away from my dad's throat I could rush her and end her. I was fast enough.

But she never gave me that opening.

Eventually the notice came. I had heard the far-off explosion a minute before Faultline started speaking. _"_ _Yeah so the Undersiders blew up our red friends,"_ she said. _"Guessing this is where we go all out in helping them?"_

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry."

" _It's fine, T. You know this is what Madison wanted anyways."_

"Yeah."

Madison hadn't been silent about what she really wanted to do. Kill all the whites and kill all the blues and sit atop a city of red. She had also pushed the idea on more than one occasion that I should consider enthralling as many people as possible and take over the city proper.

I couldn't see her motivation in doing so but I was vehemently opposed regardless.

" _Tell the stranger her friends are in an alley on fifteenth, in one of the dumpsters."_

I relayed the message to Imp. "Can you let my dad go now?" I asked.

She brought the knife away from my dad's knife. "Thanks. I'll be seeing you around, Taylor," she said. "You won't be seeing me though."

I rushed towards dad and took the gag out of his mouth. He started coughing and spitting and I held his hand. Once he'd caught his breath we sat together on the couch. "Are you all right?" I asked.

"S-Sorry kiddo," he said. "That was a bit much for me."

I stared at the floor. "No, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have never done any of this."

He put a hand on my shoulder but otherwise didn't say anything. Dad hadn't spoken his opinion on any of my affairs for months now. I took that as him not agreeing with anything I was doing. It was something that hurt a lot more than I wished it did.

But there wasn't an exit I could take. Tonight's events were happening and I had to get involved.

" _Is the stranger gone?"_ Madison asked.

 _Oh, right. Shit._ I looked around, but she was long gone. "Yeah," I said aloud.

" _Good. Get your dad somewhere safe, because I feel the stranger isn't going to be too happy when she finds Grue and Regent under the paralytic."_

Ruthless as always, Madison. "Sorry again," I said to my dad. "But I have to go deal with this."

"Stay safe," he said. But that was it.

"Do you mind if I have some thralls guard you today?"

He shook his head, so I stood up from the couch and left my house. I slowly closed the door behind me and gestured to the thralls watching the house. After giving them instructions I turned back.

Every day it felt less and less like home. The HFC building was more comfortable than it was here.

I extended my wings and took to the sky. "Madison," I said. "Where should I go?"

" _The Beamer building,"_ she said.

The Beamer building was an apartment complex HFC had a large hand in funding. The effects of Leviathan weren't completely erased and would probably always leave a mark. But we had done our best to restore the city.

When I arrived the building was on fire and there were seven HFC vehicles parked in front. It was the definition of overkill given that we had only sent unmarked cars and a couple of people to the other scenes. The sight of my figure in the sky would only solidify the Undersiders' evil plan.

I found Spitfire shouting around orders and swooped down behind her. "Hey Spitfire," I said. "What's the situation?"

She pointed towards the building. "We're trying to evacuate people still inside," she said. "But because you need water to put out a fire... well, you know."

Yeah, I know. What they really needed were firetrucks. But my thralls couldn't use them. And between Squealer, Kid Win and Bakuda, our tinkers weren't the type to design an alternative.

"Also, fire really hurts," Spitfire said. "I thought we might be able to bear with it and run through but _ouch_ does it sting."

Fire hurts most people, Spitfire. I didn't say that out loud though. "I could fly people down if they get to the roof," I said.

"I'll let everyone know."

I unfolded my wings again and went up to the roof. The building was fifteen floors tall which meant there were a lot of people potentially trapped inside. Instead of waiting on the roof I busted through the door and went down the stairs, looking for anyone I could.

Flames engulfed the building. I would have cursed the firefighters for not doing anything but there were two other bomb sites that needed their attention. And if they _did_ show up it would only hinder me.

Now was not the time to be gentle. I busted down apartment doors and made sure no one was inside. The first five doors had led to empty apartments, but the sixth I found a man and a woman staring out the window. They jumped out of their seats when they saw me break into their apartment.

"W-Wing—"

"The building's on fire," I said loudly. "Head to the roof."

They looked at each other for a moment then quickly sprung into action. Though instead of running out the front door the woman grabbed a jacket and the man went for his laptop.

I rolled my eyes and continued to clear the rest of the top floor. After I didn't see anyone I went back to the roof and found the couple standing near the door. There hadn't been anyone else.

They were looking around unsure of what to do. I didn't need them to know what was going on. "Don't squirm," I said and grabbed both of them around their torsos. The woman screamed after I leaped into the sky and the man hung onto me for dear life.

We weren't falling _that_ fast. And I slowed us down before we touched the ground. After letting them go I went back up to see if there was anyone else before they had time to say thanks. If they were even going to.

I didn't have a good idea for how much time was going by. Nor did I know if everyone managed to get out of the building. Eventually the firefighters arrived and the thralls had to keep a distance away from them. But the building was trashed by the time they put out the fire.

Madison wasn't on the scene but it sure felt like she was with how often she spoke into my ear. _"I get why they're doing this at night,"_ she said. _"Since they're trying to set us up and all. But I don't get why they waited until two in the morning. Wouldn't six in the evening have worked better?"_

"Work better for what?"

" _If they actually wanted to start a riot they should have done it when the city was awake."_

The thought had crossed my mind too, but I hadn't pressed on it.

" _Don't underestimate the Undersiders,"_ Madison said. _"Even if there's just one left."_

She said that a lot. That Imp planned this in the middle of the night meant that her actual plan might _not_ be... no, wait.

"It would take a few hours," I said into my headset. "From when the bombings started to when people are whipped into a frenzy and start rioting. At first no one would be sure what's happening. It won't turn to chaos until the media puts the pieces together and people realize what the targets and aggressors have in common."

" _Ah. So by the time people figure out what the Undersiders are feeding them it will be around dawn. Making you completely worthless to actually deal with the fighting."_

It was worse than that. For months, even though no one ever said it out loud, it was obvious the city was waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Everyone was watching intently for what HFC, the PRT and the Undersiders' answer was to the situation Jack put everyone in.

Tonight people would believe HFC came to an answer. And that answer was to kill people who took the blue and white cures. It didn't matter that it was a lie or even a fairly obvious set-up. People wanted to see the answer we came to.

And they will when they wake up. And they'll take our lead and follow. And we'll have a war zone once again in the streets of Brockton Bay.

"We have to do something," I said. "We have to do it now."

" _Do you have a plan?"_ Madison asked. _"Because if you don't the only thing we can do is actually play the Undersider's game. But for real."_

"I don't want to."

"There isn't another plan," Madison said. This time her voice came from behind me. I spun around and saw her standing there with a dark look on her face. "If you have an idea then I'm all ears Taylor. But I have nothing. Nothing except being as cold and ruthless as Jack wants us to be."

My hands were fists. She was fucking right: I had no plan. Either the city bursts into uncontrolled chaos or it bursts into controlled chaos.

"What's your opinion on putting the city to sleep?" I asked.

"You mean your paralysis bombs?" Madison asked. "Those lasted four hours and it will make _everyone_ hate us. Four hours isn't enough."

"We could use them to break up riots."

"Sure. Until the stranger kidnaps your dad again or whatever. If they got past the thralls watching your place once they can do it again. You did double up the guard, right?"

"So what, we have to keep playing into their narrative until we lose?"

Madison shook her head. "No. You just need to play into the narrative so well you _win._ "

"That would involve killing people who have nothing to do with this."

"You _have no alternatives._ " She said. "None that you've shared."

I gritted my teeth. I _knew_ I had no alternatives. But I wasn't going to start killing civilians. It didn't matter the situation or that there were no other options. I had the presence of mind to realize killing random people was bad.

"Right," Madison said. "You have no fucking idea what you're doing. What the hell do you _want_ to happen here Taylor?" She crossed her arms. "Because right now we're floundering around."

"Jesus Madison, I don't want anyone to die," I said. "It's not that complicated. But everyone else in this fucking city seems to want to kill everyone else."

"Taylor," she said. "You _have_ the power to prevent people from dying. What are you an idiot?"

She was talking about my master ability. I shook my head. "That's not—"

" _Taylor,"_ she said sharply. She took a few steps towards me until we were face to face. I was a good head taller than her. "You want Jack and Bonesaw to die and you want their disease to vanish into thin air. It's not happening. Don't think of this situation as enemies you have to fight against. Think of this tattoo bullshit for what it really is: a plague. A natural disaster. There is no head of the snake to kill, all you have to do is save the lives of as many people as possible. And _you can do that, Taylor._ " She grabbed my shoulders. "So why don't you?"

This wasn't the first time that question was asked. "Because it's enslaving them."

"I thought you were over that. What about Charlotte? Spitfire?"

"Charlotte was—"

" _Not an exception,"_ Madison exclaimed. "People don't want to die Taylor. That's why you want to save them so badly. If you asked, if you just _asked,_ you know that hundreds of people would line up at your doorstep to be taken by you. If the alternative was death? Fuck, _I_ would be the first one in that line."

I tried to give Madison my best death glare but she wasn't phased in the slightest. She took one hand off my shoulder and pointed down the street.

"The news vans are right there. You could go and make an announcement the whole city will hear. Anyone who wants to be enthralled, you'll take them. You can't save everyone. But you can save some of them." Madison lowered her hand. "Isn't that enough?"

I didn't look at the vans, I looked down at my feet. It was admitting defeat. I couldn't protect Brockton Bay. Was this the best I could do? Just save a handful of people from Jack's wrath?

 _Was_ it enough?


	46. Riot 5-2

**5.2 Riot**

"That is all I can offer," I said. And the impromptu speech was over.

I spun on my heel and marched back to Madison leaving the news crew to repeat what I had announced over and over again to anyone who would listen. Did I really think I was some sort of superhero? That would be able to save the entire city from destruction?

Of course not. I didn't live in that kind of universe. The only thing I could do was save those close to me. Those I care about and anyone else who came to me and asked for help. That was all I had the power to do.

In a way, what I had done will only throw flames on the fire. HFC has given up. We're saving whoever we can the only way we know how. _The rest of you are on your own._ That's the message I had given.

But it's all I could do and it was something, so I had to do it.

Madison gave me a nod as I dialed my phone. As usual Emma picked it up on the first ring. " _Master, how may I serve you?"_

"Were you watching me on the TV?"

" _Noo, you were on TV? I'm so sorry."_

"It's fine. I told everyone that we'll enthrall anyone who asks. Quota be damned. Tell the others."

" _Right away."_

I hung up the phone. For a moment it was just Madison and me standing there while the last embers of the apartment fire died off. The firefighters had left to go on another call. The clock on my phone said it was four AM, about two and a half hours until sunrise.

"Let's go back to HFC," I told Madison.

She nodded. "We can still try to stop the riots," she said. "To the best of our abilities."

"No, _you_ can try to stop the riots." I said. "In three hours I'll be stuck in my castle."

Madison didn't say anything to that so I unfurled my wings and took to the sky. Even though the city felt endless while on foot, traveling by air made it seem so small. I could make it to HFC in minutes.

I watched the city from afar. High up in the air where nothing could get me.

Save as many as you can.

It felt so wrong. I wasn't some villain. I _wanted_ to save the world. I was _willing_ to save the world. I wanted to fight the villains like Jack and Bonesaw and the Endbringers, but I couldn't. The real monsters in the world were just _better at it_ than I was. Jack's plan was impossible to beat. We had two months to outsmart him and we came up with nothing.

I landed on the roof of the HFC building. The moon was still out. With a sigh I went into the building and walked down to my office. It was nearly empty since all of Faultline's crew was out on patrol doing their best to help in any way they could.

The only person here was Sophia. She was cleaning the hallway walls around my office.

"Master," she said and bowed deeply.

"Wine," I said. "A lot of it."

"Right away."

Sophia scurried off past me towards the kitchen. I went into my office and plopped myself down on the couch. If Madison was right and people would line up at the door waiting to be enthralled I might as well be here.

Somehow I doubted it.

I cursed out loud. Nothing would start happening until the sun rose. But when that happened I was out of commission. I could enthrall people here in the comfort of HFC, sure, but I couldn't go outside and make a difference.

Sophia came back with two bottles of wine and a glass. She set them down on my desk and poured some of the wine. Very carefully she handed it to me. I had made her spill enough things that she was more careful about it.

I took the glass. "Sophia, footrest." I said. She immediately got on her hands and knees and raised her back. I propped my feet up on top of her and took a sip of the wine.

The expression on Sophia's face didn't change. It never did. The thralls were all unique in their own ways, only bound by their will to serve me. Each one had a different reason.

Emma was plagued by guilt. She was convinced that she should obey me absolutely to atone. Bakuda had said I was the only person who respected her work. Squealer said something similar. I didn't make fun of her vehicle designs, or something.

I brought a foot up and then slammed it down on Sophia's back. I could see her wince a bit and do her best not to crumble from the impact. "P-Please stop, master..." she begged softly.

Seeing Sophia act like that was a pleasure. I had also asked Sophia why she served me. She had said something about how I had eaten her and prey didn't have the right to disobey. Emma mentioned earlier that Sophia had some sort of obsession with the predator-prey relationship.

It was like my ability latched onto the easiest way to trick their minds into obeying. Some sort of intelligence that wasn't my own acted in my place, sifting through my victim's memories and figuring out how best to convert them.

It was kind of scary. But so were all parahuman abilities.

I drank the wine quickly and Sophia poured me another glass before returning to her place under my feet. After my fourth one the stress and nervousness had sifted away. I hadn't gotten any phone calls and the clock was already inching towards four-thirty.

"So this is what it feels like to give up," I said.

Sophia said nothing and struggled to remain still.

Outside the Undersiders were having their way, the PRT was no doubt scrambling around trying to stop violence and HFC the same. People were outside risking their lives fighting.

And I'm in here... not.

I'll enthrall my dad to save him from death. Anyone from Faultline's crew has dibs after that, and Madison last. Anyone else who asks I can accommodate as long as my ability lets me.

Riots will envelop the city and thousands might die from that. Once Bonesaw's disease takes hold, tens of thousands will die. I can't stop that.

But if the Undersiders are allowed to take the upper hand then that number might stay below twenty thousand. It will cripple the city but not wipe it out. And those I truly care about will survive.

I couldn't save everyone, but I can save my family. I stared up at my ceiling. It should have been good enough but...

"It doesn't feel good enough," I said softly. Sophia said nothing and simply let me use her back as a foot rest.

The first bottle of wine was finished and I moved onto the second. I had no idea if my body had a tolerance to wine or if I was just an alcoholic, but it wasn't until I was into the second bottle that I could start forgetting my problems.

Shamrock had suggested rum or vodka if I really wanted to forget things. I hadn't taken her up on it.

Ten till five and I finally had a visitor. "Master, it's me," said Emily.

I took my feet off Sophia. "Come in," I said. "Sophia, up."

Sophia stood up and then maneuvered to one of the walls. With her red maid's outfit she blended in nicely to the wallpaper.

Emily opened the door. That was expected. Who followed behind her wasn't.

"Panacea?" I asked standing up from the couch. "What are you—I mean, uh." One look at her face and I could tell she was extremely stressed. There were bags under her eyes and her hair was a complete mess. She wasn't even in costume. "Have a seat," I said and offered her my seat on the couch.

She took it and sat down. She stared blankly at her lap.

"Emily," I whispered. "Where, uh, where did you find her?"

"She was in the lobby." Emily whispered back.

"Do you know why she's here?"

"No."

I took another look at Panacea. Faultline had taught me what to do in this sort of situation. She had done it to me several times. "Panacea," I started. "I'm going to brew you some tea. Please relax, I'll be right back."

I gestured for Emily and Sophia to follow me. We left Panacea alone in my office and headed towards the kitchen.

"Master, can I make it?" Emily asked.

"No. It's my responsibility to do it," I replied. I also noted Sophia didn't volunteer to do anything at all. She never did. She obeyed perfectly without question but never took initiative to help out. Emily was largely the opposite and tried to help out whenever she could.

Emily's obedience was an incomprehensible loop of obeying because she knew she had been bitten, so knew she had to obey. I'm pretty sure her main motivation was she found it fun.

I made the tea, which took a few minutes, and then brought it back on a tray to my office. I had left Sophia and Emily behind. Panacea was still alone on the couch when I returned but I caught her looking around at the stuff on the walls.

"Here," I said softly and handed her a cup. She took it in her hands and blew on it.

For a moment I debated whether I should sit in a chair across from her or on the couch next to her. She was Panacea after all.

Wait. She was Panacea. And I had announced on television I was about to break quota.

"Are you here to kill me?" I asked. She didn't _look_ like she was ready to assassinate me. She had taken the tea and everything. But it was hard to do away with that thought entirely.

She shook her head. I decided I was going to believe her.

"Do you mind if I sit down next to you?"

She shook her head again. With that I carefully sat next to her and made sure my wings didn't smack her in the face. They had done that to enough of my thralls I stopped worrying about it but they were thralls. They didn't care. Panacea would mind a little bit.

I had no clue what to say to her. We sat on the couch while she sipped her tea. Consoling people wasn't my strong suit and I didn't even know what was bothering her. Instead I grabbed my half-finished glass of wine off the side table and sipped it.

The couch was on the larger side but we were sitting close together. Panacea had sat right in the middle and didn't shift over once I sat down. We were close enough that our arms brushed as we raised and lowered our respective drinks. I wasn't dead so I had that going for me.

When her cup was empty she finally spoke. "I don't know why I came here," she said softly.

Me neither.

"How come you're the only one I can confess this to?"

I held my tongue. Her hands were shaking as she held onto her empty mug and her grip went white. I placed my hand over hers. "The tea was to help you relax," I said.

Now she was staring at my hand. I heard her sob.

"I-I can save this city," she said.

It was like glass shattering. "What?"

Her lip quivered. "I can affect brains. I can totally affect brains. I know how to cure Bonesaw's disease." She shook her head. "I've alwaysknown."

I fought every urge in my body not to take my hand off hers and smack her across the face with it. But rage was boiling inside of me. She could _what?_ She could affect _fucking brains?_ This city was brought to its knees by Jack and Bonesaw and this entire time Panacea could have snapped her fingers and cured it?

The thought crossed my mind that if I had succeeded in enthralling her none of this would have happened.

But at least she was troubled by it. I mimicked her confusion in why she's telling _me_ but I'm not going to complain. I took a few deep breaths and thought about what exactly to respond with.

"May I ask why you haven't?"

"Y-You affect brains, right?" She asked. "Your thralls aren't the same people anymore. Not really."

"I... oh..." Now it was my turn to stare into my lap. "I get it."

If I was really trying, I could argue that my thralls were basically the same people they used to be. Except it wasn't true. Their memories and personalities held, for the most part, but they were a slave first and a person second.

Enthralling them changed who they were.

"It would be so easy," Panacea said. "To do whatever I wanted. I could make people love me. I could do what you do even, but worse. I could make it a viral infection." She lowered her head enough that I thought she was going to try to bury herself in her own lap. "I'm as class-S as a class-S gets."

"No," I said. "Maybe you could take over the world with a flick of your wrist, but you're not a class-S. A class-S doesn't feel bad about it. A class-S can't be reasoned with."

"You gave that speech during Red Sky," Panacea said. "About yourself."

"I meant it then and I mean it now," I said.

Panacea raised her head. I would have offered to take her cup for her but she held onto it for support.

"You never told anyone for the same reason I didn't," I said. "If they know you could _own_ them so completely like that they would never feel safe around you."

She nodded. "But after what happened tonight... I saw what you said. You admitted you had no idea what to do. I thought—I thought someone would have come up with something."

"Me too."

"I want to cure them," Panacea said. "But I don't trust myself."

She let that hang in the air. By all accounts there was a broken girl sitting here next to me. A broken girl that could end the world. Madison had cruelly reasoned out one day that she could easily create a virus that would spread throughout the world and kill everyone. She was as deadly as any Endbringer. Her ability to affect brains only added onto that danger.

Panacea could do more than kill everybody. She could turn the world into a puppet show for her own amusement. No one knew it but we all were at her mercy.

"I'm not enthralling you if that's where you're going with this," I said.

"It's not."

"Good. Because I'm no more trustworthy than you are in this manner. I'm probably _more_ likely to use that ability of yours to take over the world."

I was hoping for a smile or smirk out of Panacea but she didn't give me anything. She kept holding onto that mug like it was a life preserver. "I want a partnership," she said.

"Partnership?" I asked.

She nodded. "Even when this city was about to die I couldn't bring myself to break my rules. But you went on TV, told everyone you didn't care about the quota and would save anyone who asked. Even though it would make everyone hate you even more. You said it anyways."

It helped that everyone already hated me.

"You're willing to save people no matter the risk. I was willing to let this entire city die because I was afraid." Panacea finally put her cup down on the floor and turned towards me. She looked at me in the eyes, pleading. "I need you."

My response was slow. I was having a hard time understanding. "Need me for what?"

"To do what I can't. To save everyone."

I took hold of Panacea's hands because it looked like that's what she wanted me to do. But I had _no idea_ what she was expecting out of me. All I could do was save the poor souls who came in and were afraid they were going to die from Bonesaw's disease.

I had a few dozen thralls operating in this city who could enthrall two people per day, maybe three. That was at best a couple hundred before the disease finally took hold.

Out of a city of eighty-odd thousand that was nothing.

"Please explain what you're talking about," I said. "I don't get it."

"I can alter your ability," she said.

"What? But I thought you couldn't... affect..." I grumbled as I noticed the obvious falsehood in my sentence. "...case fifty-threes..."

"Powers are in the brain," Panacea said. "If I could affect case fifty-threes that would mean I could change the corona pollentia. Someone would figure out I was lying."

It was scary how far she thought through her deception.

"I can change you however you want, Taylor." She said. "I could erase your weaknesses. I could make you even stronger and faster. I could let you enthrall people by touching them. I could even make it airborne."

The flip side of that statement was she could also make me _her_ thrall. But we had already touched each other's skin over and over again so that wasn't a serious concern. Not enough to make me say it. And I could see what she wanted now.

"I see," I said. "If you let loose yourself you think you'll go overboard. But if you act through me you can give me exactly as much power as you think is necessary."

She nodded. "I can give you the power to save this city but not take over the world. Then you just have to do it. Please."

That was actually a clever plan. She had an infinite well of power but if she broke just one of her self-imposed rules she might break more. And one day she might look out her window and realize she took over the world. Those were her thoughts.

But if she gave _me_ the power to do what had to be done there was no way I could do more than she allowed me to do. And she would never have to break her own rules. She would obey her rules and act through a proxy, me, when something had to be done.

I leaned back in the couch. "I don't believe it," I said. "A miracle cure really came at the last moment."

Panacea bit her lip. "I've started hating this name for awhile."

"Have a better one in mind?"

"Yes. Amy."

I almost snorted at the remark. Yeah, her actual name. I suppose she would prefer it being in New Wave and all. Though now that I had the thought: "I assume New Wave isn't aware of what we're doing right now."

"I don't want to join HFC," Panacea said.

"That's fine. You had a more the-world-is-ending type partnership in mind, right?" I made sure to grab one of Amy's hands properly in a handshake. "I'll make this deal with you, Amy. If the sky is falling then I will stand by your side and save it. Otherwise, we can go about our own separate lives. Is that okay?"

Panacea ignored my attempt at a handshake and grabbed me in a hug instead.

"Thank you so much."


	47. Riot 5-3

**5.3 Riot**

Amy and I sat on the roof of the HFC building. The orange glow of the sunrise over the ocean was warm on my skin.

I cried.

"What's wrong?" Amy asked.

"It's beautiful," I said.

She actually laughed at me. "It's just a sunrise."

"It's been a long time since I've been able to see it."

The sun peeked over the turbulent waters and shined directly on me. But it didn't burn or cause me to ache or flinch away. It was a nice, pleasant warmth that spread all over my face. I wiped away the tears and made sure never to forget this sight.

Just for giving me this moment I would forever be indebted to Amy.

"Sorry," she said. "I hadn't thought about that."

"I know we agreed that you would undo this once the city is safe," I said. "But if you could let me walk in the sun again I would give you anything."

Amy rested her head against my shoulder. "Let's get through today first."

A fair point. But even if I died today at least I got to see the sunlight.

Some cynical part of me had the thought that if everyone really did lose their powers today as Dinah predicted, Amy would have no way to undo what she did to me.

And I would be unstoppable.

She had done what she said she was going to do. I could walk in the sun, take a shower and garlic was no longer poisonous to me. That last weakness I was not actually aware of until Amy pointed it out but I thanked her anyways.

And I don't know how she managed to do it but she claimed I could temporarily enthrall someone by getting them to look me in the eyes.

Most importantly, I could transfer my healing ability by firmly grasp their arm. That was it.

Amy had elaborated a lot on that. According to her the—what she called _parabacteria—_ that were the backbone of my ability were unable to take over another person if they still had a lot of blood flowing through their body. Hence the whole sucking their blood thing. She said she reinforced the parabacteria to survive and reproduce long enough in foreign blood for it to be able to start curing problems. Specifically, the tattoo.

We had tested it on Shamrock. She was glad to make the gamble and it had worked flawlessly.

But the reinforcement would not last forever and these people would lose the blessing I could bestow upon them within a few hours. The enthrallment, however, would not go away when the bacteria died.

Amy had been reluctant to change how the parabacteria did their thing in case she accidentally broke something. Which meant that to them, their host not obeying me was a fault that needed to be fixed. Even if the parabacteria all died in a few hours the victims would still be varying degrees of loyal to me in the long run.

"You can't undo the enthrallment, right?" I asked while still looking at the sunrise.

She shook her head. "I don't know what they were like before they were enthralled. I could stop them obeying you but I can't make them who they used to be. And their service to you is so ingrained I don't know if they would even feel alive after."

Tactically it wasn't something we could do at the moment. But it might be worth giving them their freedom back. Not today, but maybe tomorrow. That was Amy's call.

Today I had to run the show. Amy gave me the power to save this city. Now I had to do it.

Amy nodded. "Please don't make me regret this."

"It's still going to be messy," I said. "I'm no Triumvariate. My goal is still the same as it was a few hours ago. I'm going to save as many as I can."

She put a hand on my shoulder and used it to pull herself to her feet. "I'll be in your office," she said. "Be careful of your words when looking people in the eyes. Good luck."

I watched her walk through the door on the roof and close it behind her. The sun slowly shone brighter and brighter as it rose firmly into the sky. I had the ability to make a change, but now I had to actually do it.

Eighty thousand people in this city were infected with Jack's disease. The logistics would be hard to manage. Impossible, even. While I wanted to go give the Undersiders a piece of my mind that wasn't the top priority.

Instead I flew back to my dad's place. It was barely dawn so I doubt anyone saw me. It would be nice to keep the not-weak-to-sunlight thing under wraps for a few hours. I knocked on the door. "It's me," I said.

I opened the door and my dad walked in from the kitchen. I smelled eggs. "How did it go, kiddo?"

"I, er." It was strangely hard to say this. "I have a way to cure everyone."

"I heard you on the TV," he said.

I shook my head. "Not that. A different way. Panacea helped me—I can cure people by giving them a firm handshake."

Dad's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not... there's a catch. There's still a little of that enthrallment that goes on. But according to Panacea it's not _necessarily_ permanent. With enough time it might fade away."

There was an awkward silence.

"It's, er, it's the best that I can do," I said. "I'll—"

Dad wrapped me in a big hug. "See?" He said. "Sometimes there might be a happy ending."

I smiled as my little parabacterias made their way into my dad.

"I already love you anyways kiddo," he said. "Pretty sure a little more won't hurt."

Our test on Shamrock concluded it took about five minutes for Jack's disease to fully be eradicated, but I couldn't wait around to watch. I had a lot to do. Once I was willing to break away from the hug I bid my dad farewell and took back to the sky.

I returned to the HFC building before calling Madison. I limited my time outdoors even though I didn't wantto. But when a weakness like that evaporates it's better not to announce it until the right moment.

"Madison, it's me."I said.

" _What is it?"_

"Situation's, uh, changed." I said. I sat in the lobby while Amy milled about upstairs. I told her to make herself at home and to ask Sophia for anything she wanted. Though in retrospect they probably knew each other. Amy might find it really weird.

Whatever. That's a minor problem.

" _How?"_

"It's probably best if everyone met up."

" _Everyone is spread thin over the city. Is it really that important?"_

I paused. Was it? Yeah. Yeah, it probably was. "There is another cure."

Even though we were on the phone I could hear Madison trip over herself. _"Are you serious?"_

"Yes. I've already used it on Shamrock," I said. "It's non-invasive and has the only side effect of people being a little enthralled."

" _A little enthralled, huh."_ She said. _"Do I even want to know what that means?"_

"The fast-healing lasts for maybe a couple of hours. During that time it tries to make people loyal to me but then the infection is killed off and it stops. I don't really know what happens after."

" _If I didn't know better I would say Panacea got her hands on you."_

I was an instant too late in coming up with a response.

" _Holy shit Panacea actually did get her hands on you,"_ Madison said. I should have expected her to figure it out. _"You're actually serious then. This changes everything. I'll gather the rabble."_

Faultline and the rest of the team slowly filtered in over the next twenty minutes. Madison had been first because of her teleportation. Shamrock had stuck around too, proudly flaunting her lack of a tattoo from when I had experimented on her.

Her presence said more than words could have, though it didn't suffice as an explanation.

"Explain," Faultline said.

"Panacea is upstairs," I said. "She worked on me."

Shamrock laughed. "That's one way to put it," she said.

I explained the specifics of what Panacea did. Despite the fact that this would let us cure the people of the city, not one of them looked overjoyed with the news. I tried not to mention too much about what Amy's own motivations were but Madison probably figured it out.

"The best move is to use some heavy-handed advertising," Madison said. "Put something on the website, distribute the phone number. I can call the media but before that, are you going to cure us or not?"

"Of course—if you want me to, that is. There's still you know... some enthrallment."

Madison shrugged. "Maybe before I would have hesitated, but the price is at an extreme discount right now." She teleported right in front of me and grabbed my hand before I can react. "Is this really it?" She asked. "This is all it takes now?"

I nodded as Madison held my hand in hers. She gripped it firmly for a few seconds before letting go.

"I don't feel any different."

"Takes a minute," Shamrock offered.

Everyone took a turn grabbing my hand and then we all found our seats again. Protecting the team was important but what I really wanted to do was protect the city.

"The problem is the Undersiders' reaction," Faultline said.

Madison crossed her legs. "No," she said. "I think the real problem is actually convincing people to do this."

"Weren't you the one that said people will chose enthrallment over death?" I asked.

"Reasonable people," she said. "People are far from reasonable. Half this city is terrified of you. People still remember how you dominated them during the Red Sky incident. It will be hard if not impossible for them to walk into your arms." She sighed. "The people who took the red cure of their own volition are probably the ones who were too afraid to resist anymore."

I looked down at my feet. Even though she put it cruelly I knew she said it in the pursuit of finding a solution. Denying the truth wouldn't help, but it still felt bad.

It was ultimately decided to reenact our Christmas event and set up shop in the park. Madison said it would create a familiarity that might attract more people. HFC would deploy in full force. While the decisions were being made I smiled as the tattoos across everyone's faces cleared up.

After a collective sigh of relief we got back to planning. All the tents and everything from Christmas were still in storage so we put them back in the trucks and were on our way.

After setting up the tents and parking the tanks and cars in strategic locations, no one knew what to actually do.

"Think anyone will show up?" Faultline asked after about twenty minutes.

I held my arm. "Am I really that terrifying?"

She hadn't replied and the two of us stood out there in the cold. I couldn't feel it, but despite it being a clear day everyone was in coats and scarves.

"I thought our charity drive bought us a little favor."

Faultline rubbed her hands together. "They aren't mutually exclusive," she said. "You can provide for everyone and still be feared."

"I second that," Madison cut in. "Haven't you ever read Machiavelli? It's the preferred method of leadership."

"According to him," Faultline added.

This conversation was not going in the direction I wanted it to. If no one in this city trusted me enough to take me up on my offer to cure them I wouldn't know what to do. Could I go around and forcefully cure people? I would still be enthralling them, even if it was minor. They wouldn't like that.

But I might have to if it's the only way to help this city.

"The ideal," Faultline started, "is if a majority of this city takes the blue cure and those already white and red come to us. I don't know how to make that happen though."

"I do," Madison said and took her phone out of her pocket. "Give me a minute." She brought the phone up to her ear and then teleported away. The only person she tried to keep phone conversations private with was Calvert.

Faultline and I gave each other a look, both of us knowing what Madison was doing. Some sort of under the table deal with the PRT.

While Madison was away a news van pulled up towards our little encampment. We watched from afar as it parked across the street and the reporters started preparing to broadcast. That was expected. I tried to think of what to say if they came to interview me.

For all the people who were allegedly terrified of me, it didn't stop reporters from walking right up and shoving a microphone in my face.

"So," Madison said darkly. "That didn't go so well."

"Uh oh."

"The ideal situation Faultline described could have happened if the PRT endorsed us and told anyone who hadn't taken a cure yet to take the blue one. We would have had to bully the Undersiders but who cares."

"And yet," I started.

"And yet Calvert has said the PRT will be making no announcement whatsoever." I could see Madison's grip on her phone tighten. "He doesn't care. It's advantageous to him if we escalate and cross the line somehow."

Because he wants to set us up as long-term villains. That was his master plan. We've guaranteed _our_ survival so the survival of Brockton Bay isn't relevant to him anymore. Damn it Madison, this is the type of person you get yourself involved with?

Madison looked up at the news crew. "Well at least we can use _that."_

And once again she vanished, appearing right beside the newscasters. Faultline and I watched her start speaking to them and I could see the fear in their bodies. Fuck. It wasn't just me, it was all of HFC.

"Hey, Faultline." I said. "Are you afraid of me?"

As soon as I asked the question I wanted to take it back. It wasn't something I wanted to know the answer to. Faultline had been there the night I lost everything and she dragged me back to my feet. I owe her the world and a half.

So if she answered—

"Yes, I am."

—I would be crushed.

"I'm sorry," she said and turned to face me. We were the same height even though she was years older than me. "In case I become more and more enthralled I should say the truth now. While I still can."

"Why?" I cracked.

Faultline didn't hesitate or look away. She stared me right in the eyes. "It wasn't Red Sky or even when we thought you were going to end the world. It was after, once we formed HFC. Something about you changed."

I did my best to meet Faultline's gaze but it was piercing. She was a mother to me. Faultline had been the most motherly figure in my life since my real one died.

"You stopped caring," she said. "About enthralling people I mean. Maybe on such grandiose scales like all of the city you wouldn't consider it. But Charlotte and Sophia weren't the only ones you enthralled only after a few minute's consideration. We _hit our quota every month,_ Taylor."

"That's not true," I exclaimed. "I care and have reasons for all of them. I'm not flippantly—"

"And yet the choice is always to enthrall them," Faultline interrupted. "It's never to say no. That's what's so terrifying about you, Taylor." Faultline took her hands out of her jacket pocket. "Because you have such good reasons and justifications for your actions. And you have such good intent too. But at the end of the day, if you take a step back and look at what's happened? You have a _lot of thralls,_ and that number has only gone up."

I had no words.

Faultline looked at Madison. She was still talking with the news people. I tried to say something in response but there were no words. I felt betrayed. Betrayed at the highest level.

"And here we are today about to enthrall thousands," she finished.

"It's to save their _lives,"_ I argued. "If it wasn't—"

She turned back around. "Did you even try to convince Panacea to do it herself?" She asked. "Or at the mere mention of empowering your ability did you accept her plan?"

That's—

Madison appeared. "Good news," she said. "We're... uh." She looked at the two of us. "Fuck. Sorry. The news is going to film us curing their reporter. It's a big thing but..." she trailed off. "I think I'll leave you two alone."

And she was gone. But she had killed the conversation.

Faultline was afraid of me.

The silence was awkward. It was awkward but there wasn't anything to say to break it. Despite what she had said there was no way we could turn back. Maybe I'm turning into a monster or maybe I always was. But I could still save this city. That's all there was to it and all I had to do.

The reporter made his way over to the tent. His cameraman followed him like a hawk without any hesitation in either of their steps. The two of them probably faced worse than the likes of me.

Faultline meandered away as the reporter approached. He held out his hand to shake but I held up my own. "Probably shouldn't touch me just yet," I said.

"That so?" He laughed. "So how does this work, exactly?"

I glanced towards the camera. All of this was being filmed. "It's basically like a toned-down version of my ability," I said. "You get a little bit of my healing—just enough to wipe away this tattoo—and it only lasts a few hours. But you also get a little bit of enthrallment."

"And is that temporary too?" The reporter asked.

"It's hard to say," I said. "When the fast healing stops your body will also stop trying to make you loyal. But the brain is complicated and I don't understand it. It might take a lot longer to unlearn that behavior than it took to have it forced on you."

"Has it been tested?" He asked. "Are you sure it works how you thinks and all that?" His tone was still light and he kept a smile on his face. It was pretty obviously fake from where I was standing but that was the news.

"Everyone on my team did it," I said and pointed to Madison whose tattoo was gone. "So it works. But this cure is all of a few hours old. There hasn't been enough time to do anything rigorous. And there won't be, unfortunately."

The reporter nodded and showed his arm to the camera. I took a look too. The tattoo was very close to making it down to his right hand. Bonesaw had said that as soon as the tattoo made it across to the hand the infected would die. Based on the rate it's growing there was less than a week left. Probably only a few days.

It was down to the wire.

"The chances of it working are better than one in three though, wouldn't you say?" The reporter asked. Those were the odds of chosing one of Bonesaw's cures at random.

"Way better," I said. "I can make you survive. It just has the catch of enthrallment attached. I don't want anyone to die, but I understand people won't want to make that trade."

Even though I can't think of why anyone would chose death over it. But I could respect people's decisions about themselves.

"So how does it work?" The reporter asked again. "People say that you enthrall people by killing them and drinking their blood. That's pretty intense. I'm not sure I'm on board with that."

Despite his words he still had a flippant attitude. He hadn't been so insane as to smile while talking about me killing people and drinking their blood, but he hadn't said it in a dead serious tone either. I could reciprocate. "No no no," I said and waved my hand. "That's the full service deal. I said this was a lighter version."

I held out my hand.

"All it takes is a handshake."

He stared at my hand. "That's it?"

"That's it."

He brought his smile back. "Ah ha, so that's why you wouldn't shake my hand earlier."

I tried to smile too but that bared my fangs. And people didn't like that. I lowered my hand not sure if the reporter actually planned on taking the plunge. His tattoo was all over his body and his face, but that was true for everyone in the city.

"Well," he said after a minute, "for the sake of our viewers let's show them how this works."

He held out his hand. "It's your choice," I said with a smile. I tried to emphasize that point as I held out my own arm. I slowly locked hands with the reporter and gave him a firm handshake.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Oh, it takes a few minutes." I clarified.

"Ah." He nodded. "So while we wait, can I ask what took so long?"

That wasn't a question I wanted to answer, but Madison had schooled me fairly well. When someone asks a question you don't want to answer, answer what you wish the question was. Most people don't notice. Though even when I told him a non-answer he kept asking questions.

Madison wasn't intervening but I knew she was watching. So I must not have been messing up _too_ badly.

At some point the tattoo on his body slowly cleared up. I pointed this out to him and he looked genuinely relieved. The successful cure marked an end to our little interview, or at least I thought so. But the reporter and the cameraman switched places and I was asked to cure the camera guy too.

With him taken care of the interview was over and they went back to their van. They didn't drive off though. Eventually I found out why.

People had actually started _coming._

It was just a couple at first. Parian had managed to make some professional-looking poster boards stating exactly how it worked. They mimicked what I said on the news. What was really surprising was how quickly she could get them written up.

Madison stressed I should act like I'd done this a thousand times already, rather than just a dozen. It would make people feel more comfortable.

The first couple of people who wandered in, to my surprise, were families. Families with children. I tried to hide the surprise on my face and smiled without showing any teeth. Despite the signboards and whatnot the parents still asked me all sorts of questions.

Then a line started forming and people felt pressured to get it over with. It wasn't hard for people to simply shake a hand. If it had been anything more there was no way this many people would have shown up.

I was just shaking hands. By mid-afternoon the line had lengthened around the street. So naturally the PRT showed up.

With a lot more force than made me comfortable.


	48. Riot 5-4

**5.4 Riot**

We had set up a perimeter long before the PRT's arrival so they didn't have an avenue to surround us. They had embarrassingly stopped their progression a block away after a tank weaved its cannon around.

There were people for me to heal so I couldn't see what was happening. But I could get a good picture as to what was going on through my headset.

"Thank you," someone said and scurried away.

" _Attention citizens,"_ a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. It was pretty loud even though it came from way over by the PRT force. _"Cease all contact with Wingspan at once. Her actions are not sanctioned by the Protectorate nor the PRT."_

"Hey Madison," I said. "Any heroes?"

" _Yeah,"_ she said through my headset. _"Velocity and GG."_

The person next in line suddenly hesitated. "It's your choice, sir." I said. "They're not wrong."

" _Wingspan is officially a villain as she broke her agreements with us,"_ the PRT officer said through the loudspeaker. _"This is a dangerous situation. Please leave for your own safety."_

The man held out his hand regardless and so I grasped his hand. "I have a feeling we're going to be fighting soon," I told everyone in line behind him. "Notice how I didn't start it."

But I'm going to fucking end it. "Madison," I said. "Are they gearing for a fight?"

" _They totally are. It would be bad."_

"Protect the civilians. Can you handle it without me?"

She didn't immediately answer. _"Define 'handle.'"_

Ugh. "Never mind. I'll take care of it."

There wasn't anyone that could replace me, but if the PRT was going to get in my way I might as well beat them back so severly they'll leave me the hell alone. I haven't cured more than a hundred people yet. Not even a sliver of the population.

Despite not needing it I still had one of the thralls grab an umbrella and hold it over me.

"Wait," said one of the people waiting in line. "What about us?"

I turned back. "This shouldn't take long," I said. "Thank our favorite heroes for this delay."

I broke away from the line and took up a position behind one of the tanks. The PRT was half a block away. Like Madison had said there was an entire fleet of vans, fire trucks, and the two heroes Madison mentioned earlier. I would have expected more.

"This is what they want," said Madison. "They're trying to distract you."

I gripped the tank we were standing behind for cover. Not that I really needed it... nor did Madison now that I thought about it. I never got the trick of her bullet immunity. Cracks appeared where my hand was. Whoops. I let go.

"So..." Madison led on.

"So we end them quickly," I finished.

"We end them quickly. Do you really want to make the first move?"

Madison always brought that one up. According to her spinning things in our favor was way easier if we hadn't shot first, regardless of how the battle turned out nor the fact that one is obviously going to occur. But things like that didn't really matter, not right now.

We had mere days before time ran out for this city and like hell I was going to let the god damn fucking heroes drag it to death in the name of being morally just.

"We make the first move," I said. "Soften them up first then deploy everything away from this main road. They're one-hundred-percent going to flank us." The set up was almost embarrassingly telegraphed.

Seconds later, real, honest-to-god bomb shells flew out of the tanks and smashed into the vans in the front. They immediately exploded into burning wrecks. The PRT returned fire, the bullets pointlessly bouncing off the tanks' armor. I'm not sure why they even bothered firing at all.

"Do what you want with the tanks," I said.

"Roger that," Madison said.

Time to scare the crap out of them. I sent away the thrall holding my umbrella and extended my wings, taking to the sky. In what was essentially a huge leap I flew over towards the burning wreck that was the first few PRT vans and landed on one of the safe ones in the back. My landing was hard enough to completely cave it in.

I stepped on top of the wreckage of the car I crushed and extended my wings in the broad sunlight. The PRT agents leveled their rifles at me as if it would do anything, but I could see them backing away.

"I've had enough of you idiots getting in my way," I shouted. "This city is going to die in days and you're helping it. You're all part of the Nine as far as I'm concerned."

One of the agents with a foam gun came at me from behind. The foam guns were slow but could probably still take me down if I wasn't paying attention. I dashed off the car as it was covered in the foam.

I immediately charged the agent with the gun and smashed him in the ribs. The force threw him into the PRT van behind him and I could hear something cracking that wasn't the window.

Then I followed up and gave the PRT van a swift kick, flipping it upside down and breaking all the windows. Before I could move onto another vehicle I was tackled to the ground.

My assailant vanished.

 _No, he just ran away._ Before I could get up Glory Girl followed up Velocity's attack and tried to cave my face in. I grabbed her arm and took the punch in the shoulder instead. It was strong enough to shatter it.

But then my shoulder turned black and reformed good-as-new. My body still did that.

I threw Glory Girl off me and got back to my feet, but was immediately knocked down by Velocity again. Jesus fuck this is going to get annoying fast. In response I pushed on the ground with all fours to launch me a little into the air and had my wings take me up.

Glory Girl tackled me from the sky and we both smashed into one of the police cars the PRT had brought. Trashing this one wasn't even my fault. She followed it up with a punch to my abdomen. I took the hit and punched her in the face while she did so.

Mine was stronger. I kicked her in the shin when she recoiled and then shoved her away from me as I got out of the wrecked car. It was an idle thought but I may have already caused several hundred thousand dollars of property damage.

Luckily it was the PRT's property. It doesn't _really_ count.

Glory girl stood across from me and raised her fists. Velocity circled around me but he was the only one. The PRT agents had backed off, probably to go engage the rest of HFC.

I hesitantly raised my fists in answer to Glory Girl. This might not go well.

She ran towards me and swung her body around for a kick. Instead of dodging I took the hit again and grabbed her leg. I thrust it towards me and smashed my head into her face. She stumbled back so I got low and followed it up with the hardest punch I could muster. It hit her in the stomach and she flew back right into the of the building opposite the street.

The brick crumbled but didn't break. Glory Girl fell into a crumpled heap onto the sidewalk and there was a lot of blood everywhere.

Uh.

Velocity shoved me down again before I could react at all and rushed towards Glory Girl. "Damn it," he shouted.

"I thought she was invulnerable," I shouted.

Velocity didn't respond. This was pretty bad. That was Amy's sister. I hadn't thought about that until just now, when I probably killed her. Velocity wouldn't let me get close to her but this was a battle. He had turned his back on me.

I charged towards him. He rushed out of the way of my punch and tried to throw one of his own. It hit my face but I took it and countered. This was really unfair. I could ignore his attacks.

Though he completely avoided my punch there wasn't any point in him throwing ones of his own either. I was positioned closer to Glory Girl now. She looked in bad shape. I smiled when I got a close look at her body.

Velocity used the opportunity to hit me again for all its futility. I'm sure the hits were extremely strong being amplified by his super speed but they didn't hurt. And even though they literally blew parts of my body away they reformed immediately.

He hit me with another punch.

"She's—" I started, but was interrupted by Velocity attacking again. I tried to step back but he was way faster than me. "She's—!" I tried to say again, but was rudely interrupted.

I couldn't even follow Velocity's movements. Hits started coming from nowhere.

"Jesus fuck she's—"

A kick to the head.

"Fine," I shouted. "She's fucking fine."

Apparently he actually listened and went to check on Glory Girl again. I decided _not_ to interrupt him this time. After half a minute I saw his eyes widen a bit. "This is—"

"Yeah, neat isn't it?" I said. I raised my hands in the air. "I got the magic touch. Can you stop fucking getting in my way now?"

I charged Velocity once he realized that Glory Girl was alive. I saw him try to move away but then he immediately moved back once he realized his position. He was standing between me and Glory Girl and if he dodged then he would leave her completely exposed. The not-lost-cause Glory Girl.

He didn't have a choice but to take the hit in her place. I charged right into him and smashed him into the same wall that Glory Girl had been in. His helmet cracked in half and he fell face-first onto the ground. He wasn't moving either and some more red appeared.

How do you take down Velocity? Make it so he can't move.

I stood over the two of them. I had touched both of them which meant that they had inherited my fast healing. But they didn't look like they would be getting up any time soon. If anyone was watching it would scare the hell out of them but I actually started laughing. I punched them hard enough to heal them. I'm like a horrible version of Panacea.

Wait, that's _exactly_ what I was.

That was the end of that though. "Madison," I said. "Heroes are down. All two of them. How's it going on your end?"

" _Terrible,"_ she said. I inhaled sharply before she followed it up. _"Faultline stomped her foot on the ground and tossed all the vans upside-down. I didn't get to do anything at all."_

"Uh, right." I said. "So—"

A laser beam shot down from the sky and cut through me. I spun around and looked up at my assailant as my body reformed itself. Up in the sky was Legend. Seconds later Alexandria landed in front of me and Eidolon behind me.

I'm not sure I warranted _this._ There was no way they were informed and got here that quickly. This was planned. A set-up?

"Either you planned this," I said, "in which case it's basically entrapment and fuck you. Or you didn't, in which why are you here?"

Alexandria crossed her arms. "Did you expect us to just sit back and let you enthrall the entire city?"

"It's voluntary," I said. "I'm not misrepresenting anything."

"You're in the sun and doing just fine. Apparently you've been misrepresenting yourself for quite some time."

I couldn't correct her on that one. I lowered my stance. When it came down to it the time I spent fighting was time better spent healing people. They were aware of that too and planned their strategy around it.

I spread my wings to take to the air but Legend immediately threw down his lasers and sliced them off. We've done this dance before. Alexandria went with his attack and followed up with a bunch of her own. I dodged and threw one back but it was futile.

Although they were different flavors of invulnerability, neither Alexandria nor I could be hurt. We were literally just keeping each other busy. The only thing _I_ had to worry about was getting exhausted.

At least I could follow Alexandria's movements. It felt like an honest brawl with the occasional laser by Legend raining down on me. Eidolon was apparently just watching.

"What the fuck is your problem," I shouted as Alexandria swept me under the leg. She didn't give me any answer. Before she could follow up by slamming me down into the concrete I rolled away and got to my feet.

That I had somehow avoided Alexandria's follow-up was proof they were buying time.

I couldn't let this go on for much longer. She came at me again. The force of my own punches could throw her back but they didn't do any actual damage. There was no way to hurt her.

Alexandria roundhouse kicked me into one of the already-trashed PRT vans. It was beyond repair now. Getting out of the wreckage was an ordeal but Alexandria happily waited for me. Fucking bitch.

"What right do you fucking have," I said. "To stop me from doing this."

She raised her fists.

"I'm trying to save these fucking people. What are _you_ doing?"

If they had some plan they would have done it by now. The PRT had jack and neither did the Undersiders. That's why they were trying to _win._ And people were volunteering for me. They weren't being forced.

Alexandria's response was to charge at me and try to deliver another kick. I managed to dodge the first three strikes and then land one of my own. It was a trap because Alexandria grabbed my arm and used it to slam me into the pavement.

Fuck I had no plan to end this. Every time I extended my wings lasers shot them off. Legend was hovering above in the sky waiting for his opportunity. And Eidolon—what was he, Alexandria's god-damn second?

That had ended up being true when Alexandria had finally taken to the sky and Eidolon took her place. Legend still banning the sky from me.

What were my options? Staying here was pointless, so I could run. But no one else could stand up to the Triumvariate. I would be putting Faultline's crew in harm's way. But fleeing in the opposite direction... I could run into a building to get cover from Legend but it didn't matter. The building would keep me out of the sky as well.

Damn it.

Eidolon didn't fight me fist to fist like Alexandria had. He recycled that buckshot thing he had used on me during Red Sky.

I threw a kick but it was stopped dead a yard away from him. A force field was his second ability.

"I fucking hate you," I shouted. "All I want is for everyone to live. You would have them die in the name of your fucking _justice_ and _freedom._ "

Instead of punching Eidolon I grabbed one of the cars and threw it at him. It wasn't so much of a throw as a forceful drag. The car tumbled down the street and bounced off his force field. I couldn't tell if it was overwhelmed or not.

I noticed the buckshot came into existence _outside of_ his force field. Which wasn't at all helpful.

"You're a bunch of murders," I shouted. "You're worse than the Slaughterhouse Nine, at least they gave us a chance to keep everyone alive."

That one had gotten a rise out of Eidolon. He finally charged at me, a large fork appearing in his hand. Ability number three. He didn't pierce me with the fork, he thrust it at my neck and pinned me to the ground with it between the tongs. It was clever. I hadn't been hurt so my regeneration wouldn't help. I was trapped.

I glared at him but he glared back. "You," he growled, "understand nothing."

"Fuck off and die." I spat at him.

He took the fork back out and spun around, walking away. Then he shot up into the sky and tagged Alexandria back in. I had barely enough time to get to my feet before Alexandria was ready to throw me into another wall.

Then she _did_ throw me into another wall.

I'm not sure I had bones or any of those regular human parts anymore. I never _saw_ them. For all I knew I was black mush inside.

I groaned as I got back out from the wall. There was still no plan and these idiots weren't giving me any time to think of one. It's hard to think when people keep attacking you. The only thing that came to mind was—

"Transistor," I said softly. "Help."

There wasn't a response. By the amount of beatings I'd taken the headset was probably trashed. My clothes certainly were. My outfits had gotten skimpier purely because if they weren't they would be torn off entirely. At least I still had pants on this time.

Alexandria ignored me as I took a few steps towards her. She looked at the top of one of the buildings.

I was tempted to make a snarky comment but opted instead to take the break to think. I couldn't figure out what she was looking at.

We had put Alexandria to sleep for months before. It would be foolish to think it would work again but I didn't have any other options. Better to try a plan that might work than waste time I don't have. My radio didn't work so I would have to get back to Madison.

I hated to admit Madison was the only one who could do it. She was the only one who could drop a grenade into the enemy's pocket.

Alexandria flew back up to where she was looking at. Legend flew over there as well. Excellent, that looks like a distraction. I unfolded my wings and rushed back towards the park. My getaway was flawless.

Well, they probably knew I would do something like that, but they were distracted enough to not follow me.

Back at the park HFC was dealing with something a lot different than I expected. There was a large group of people shouting and waving signs around. I scrunched my brow. Someone actually had a picket sign that read "Liberty or death." They weren't happy to see me fly over and land near the line of vehicles that were keeping them back.

Unlike me the thralls still were weak to sunlight so they were confined inside the vehicles. But Faultline's crew was standing on top making sure no one got close.

I landed near Madison. "What fresh hell is this?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "The idiots of the world, who do you think? How's the Triumvariate?"

"They got distracted by something shiny I assume," I said. "I'm going to need your help."

"Same plan as last time?"

"Unless you have a better idea."

She shrugged. "Last plan was pretty great. I'll do it again."

And she vanished. As... foolish... as it sounded I actually trusted her to get this done. As long as I could keep the Triumvariate occupied Madison could come in and time freeze them in an instant. It was risky using a plan like this more than once but Madison might be able to make it work.

Even knowing it might come I couldn't imagine defending against it. A grenade suddenly appearing behind you and immediately going off was unstoppable.

I would have to get away from the protesters though. That was definitely a problem that needed to be fixed. They would prevent people from getting cured.

"Faultline," I said. She was standing a little way away.

"I know," she said. "They're causing problems. Doing anything might cause more harm than it solves though."

"Just try to think of something. Please."

"Sure."

I took back to the sky and flew over to where the Triumvariate had wandered. They found me before I found them. Alexandria shot at me from nowhere and slammed me all the way back to the ground. The impact made a huge crater in the road.

Without giving me time to recover she threw punch after punch. I saw it in her eyes. She was extremely angry.

"What are you—"

"Die," she shouted and threw a punch at my face. It reformed like the rest of my body does. When it did I could see a tear in her eye before the next punch came.

"Stop," I cried.

Her fist stopped a hair before carving in my skull again. My heart skipped a beat. Figuratively. Alexandria was still on top of me hovering her fist in front of my face. But that was it.

I took a few deep breaths. What was she doing?

…

 _OH._ Wait.

"Get off me," I said looking her in the eyes.

She got off me.

Panacea had said I could temporarily enthrall people by meeting their eyes. I could _enthrall people_ by _meeting their eyes._ Shit, if I had remembered that, this would have been a lot easier. I stood up next to Alexandria, facing her.

The real question was how temporary was temporary. A day? An hour? Five minutes?

"Alexandria, stay here and stand still," I commanded. Then I thought better of it. "Actually, go stand over there on the corner."

She walked over to the corner and stood there, staring at me. That should be an easy target for Madison. I stood next to her and looked up in the sky waiting for Legend or Eidolon to appear. Then I, once again, thought better of it and stood on the other side of the street from Alexandria.

A minute later I saw the canister behind her and then it froze in mid-air. Convenient but where the hell were the others?

Madison appeared next to me. "That was easy," she said.

"She was a little bit enthralled," I responded. "Legend and Eidolon should be lurking about."

"Tabling how you enthralled _Alexandria,_ " Madison said, "I saw Legend fly off carrying something. No sign of Eidolon."

For a moment we looked at each other in some vain attempt to relieve our confusion. I used every ounce of strength to resist telling Madison to bow. We were looking at each other, she would have obeyed. It would have been great.

I turned away. "Well, they're not here now I guess." I said. "Want to go back?"

"Sure," she said. She grabbed my shoulder and we appeared back at the park. After orienting myself I took a look around. The protesters were still protesting and Faultline seemed at a loss for what to do about it.

For now I ignored it and focused on the people who were wanting to be healed. The illusion had long since been broken that I could survive in the sun but I went back under the tent anyways. "Next," I said offhand. Then realized I wasn't wearing a shirt. I covered my breasts with my arm. "Uh, someone bring me a top."

It was Emily who showed up with one. I quickly put it on and apologized, getting back to what I was here to do. Though the atmosphere was different. I could tell people were visibly upset at the protesters telling them what a mistake they were making.

Ten minutes later they were still out there. Faultline didn't want to act against them because it might spark violence. I accepted the state of affairs. I still had a steady stream of people who wanted to be cured.

Most of them had a red tattoo or a black tattoo. So I was probably screwing over my "team" if it could be called that. But if they had really chosen the red cure they should be showing up here to get cured by me personally.

The crowd of protesters only grew as more and more people took advantage of my service. It wasn't until they started trying to block people from reaching me did it become a problem.

"That's it," I said darkly and stomped towards Faultline and Madison. "Time to end this. Why are you giving me your phone?"

I took the phone out of Madison's hand. The headline news was displayed:

 _Eidolon is dead._


	49. Riot 5-5

**5.5 Riot**

"Wasn't me," I said handing Madison back her phone.

"It _had_ to be you," she shot back. "There is no one else it could have been."

I wiggled the phone until Madison took it. "I didn't even get to touch him," I said. "He came down and fought me for like one, two minutes tops and then left. I didn't get a single hit on him."

"Uh huh," she said. "Sure he wasn't—how did you put it? Just a _little bit_ enthralled?"

"That's..."

Dread filled me. I _had_ looked into his eyes. Had I said something to him he took literally? I was just venting anger, but I might have told him to go fuck himself or something. Shit, that's what happened to Canary wasn't it?

"Oops," I said.

Faultline and Madison groaned. "Fuck T," Faultline said. "Did Eidolon really die because of an _oops?"_

I ran my hand through my hair. "Y-Yeah, maybe. If I said it was an accident... well, that doesn't make it any better."

Madison gestured to Faultline and me, holding out her phone. We huddled around it as a video played. It was taken from extremely far away but it showed what looked like Eidolon on a rooftop. One second he was standing there and another his head was blown clean off and his body fell over. The quality was too bad to make out the specifics.

But it kind of looked like suicide by that grapeshot thing of his.

"That was horrible," Faultline said.

Madison nodded and put her phone away. "I'm guessing our beloved master over here accidentally told him to go kill himself. Do I have that right?"

I nodded.

The Triumvariate had come to try to delay me from curing the people of this city. Alexandria found herself locked back in time and Eidolon lost his life for it. But their sacrifices weren't even for the best of this city because I _still can't fucking cure anybody._ Those damn protesters are stopping me.

Well, they're stopping anybody from getting to me. They're making their own heroes' sacrifice in vain. Idiots. They're like children, throwing a tantrum because other people are different than they are.

I took a step back from Madison and Faultline, but they noticed. "T, what are you doing?" Faultline asked.

I bit my lip. "Faultline," I said. "I'm going to break up this protest."

"There will be consequences."

"Won't there always?"

I extended my wings and launched myself up over the tank that was between us and the mob. I aimed right for the center and landed as the group desperately got out of my way. The protesters immediately went quiet as I stood up and extended my wings. They slowly backed

away.

"Eidolon is dead," I said loudly. There were some gasps. "And Alexandria is down. I'm giving you three seconds. _Run._ "

They were deeer in headlights. Madison was better at human psychology than I was so she could predict what would happen. I couldn't though. I just counted. One.

Two.

Three.

And they were still standing, waiting to see what would happen. But there was only one thing I could do. I was someone who followed up on threats. I picked a target from the crowd and charged towards him.

As soon as I did people started running. The college-aged kid I had in my sights couldn't escape and I easily grabbed him by the shoulder—and the person next to him with my other hand—and threw them both to the ground.

"Congratulations, you're cured." I shouted and reached out for someone else. I'd only had to grab about five people before the protesters had run for the hills.

Once they were scared off I went back to my tent, _again,_ and waited for someone else to come looking for my help. Madison and Faultline insisted that what I did was a bad move, but it sure fucking worked.

They hadn't said anything at first, just milled about securing the area and whatnot. But after an hour of very few people stopping by to get cured I had a better understanding what they meant by consequences.

I had scared people away. I sighed but otherwise accepted it. Besides the idiots who brought it on themselves I still wanted it to be voluntary. Even if _not_ doing it was a stupid idiot decision that only idiots would make. If their desire to live wasn't strong enough to deal with that little display they had no business with me.

Plus, _some_ people still came. But now they were almost exclusively red-tattoos. I'm guessing these people were already loyal to me for some reason or other. A couple of them even said how badass I was for breaking up the group.

But they were in the minority.

"Now they're protesting outside our building," Madison said. She looked at a security camera feed on her phone. I glanced over and saw the group of people outside HFC.

"Do they know no one's there?"

"I think they do, which is _why_ they're protesting over there and not over here."

One of the cameras suddenly went offline.

"I mean rioting," Madison said. "Did I say protesting? I meant rioting."

I groaned but turned my attention back to the person who wanted me to save their life. Some things took priority over a bunch of angry people throwing stuff and causing property damage.

Madison sat next to me watching the cameras. "To my understanding, riots happen when there is a reasonable expectation that no one will be caught or arrested. If five or six people light a police car on fire they go to jail for a long time. If two hundred people are lighting cars on fire, are they _all_ going to be arrested? What about two thousand? The individualism is stripped and they become part of a mob. Suddenly they aren't responsible for their actions anymore."

"Fascinating," I said. "Is there a point?"

"The PRT came, the Protectorate came and then the Triumvariate came," Madison said. "And they lost. Almost immediately at that."

She paused.

"Suspiciously immediately... but let's not think about that for now. The point is that the only people in a position to enforce the law right now are _us._ " Madison hit something on her phone to switch cameras. "If we don't stop this it will grow."

"We don't have the manpower."

"We have the equipment though," Madison said. "You put this city to sleep once. We can do it again."

"Is it too much to ask to set up camp here in this park and have people come to me if they want to get this tattoo off their body?" I asked. "That's all I wanted to do."

Madison rolled her eyes. "Apparently it is."

By noon I'm pretty sure I still hadn't actually cured more than five hundred people. Which was a pretty good turn out considering the situation, I guess, but it wasn't close to helping the eighty thousand people left in this city.

Madison kept her eyes on the news but they kept going back and fourth between Eidolon's death, Alexandria being frozen again and the riots. As predicted the riots weren't showing any sign of slowing.

"It's spreading," she reported. "I think the news reporting Eidolon's death was the spark."

They hadn't broke into the HFC building yet though. That place was basically a giant concrete slab so I'm not sure what they would have done. There were two doors and they were reinforced to withstand parahumans trying to break in.

Eventually they gave up on our building and instead turned their attention to the only target a mob could actually do anything against. People who had taken the red cure.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I crumpled my hand into a fist. Fucking cowards.

"Fine. Do it," I told Madison.

"Do it?"

"We'll stop the riots. We'll use the paralytic, time stopping, anything we have to." I growled. "The people in this city are acting like a pack of wild dogs. So let's treat them as such."

My generous offer to heal people had dried up around person number six hundred. It'd been half an hour without anyone showing. This city was going to die in two days and the people weren't even willing to save _themselves._ They were going to make sure Brockton Bay died. After all, the alternative would be letting me actually do something helpful.

And if Brockton Bay ever had a driving goal it was to personally screw me over.

I ordered the tanks to roll out, the jeeps to patrol and everyone to stop anyone from doing anything. "We're taking over the city," I said on the radio. "I've had enough. Martial law time."

My earlier comment was still valid. We didn't have the numbers to enforce much. It meant "martial law" was going to be more "flooding the streets with tear gas and paralytic until people learned to stay in their fucking houses.

If letting the people come to me was a problem, I would lock them all in their homes and go to _them._

I flew towards the larger group of rioters who were lighting cars on fire and looting stores downtown. They scattered when they saw me but it didn't help them. I found someone to go for and tackled them to the ground. I had to remember to hold back since he wasn't a parahuman.

With my hand on their neck they were cured, but I wasn't sure the extent of the enthrallment from contact. It hadn't been overwhelming. Madison and Faultline weren't falling over me like the regular thralls were.

Without a better plan I spun my victim around and looked at him in the eyes. "Go home," I ordered. Then I got off him and moved on to someone else. I still hadn't learned how temporary "temporary" was, but my eyes were the strongest tool in my arsenal.

After a couple of those I took back to the sky. The organized riot had splintered into lots of different groups at my attack, but the people seemed to want to reform into mobs. That made sense if Madison's theory was right. They could justify their actions if they were in a mob. When they were alone they would no longer be faceless.

I attacked one of the other cells like I had before and it broke up even more.

It shouldn't have been surprising when Legend showed up again. He announced his presence with another laser beam slicing through my wings. I still don't have a counter to that ability of his. Once I fell to the ground he shot me again.

Legend would be difficult. He was long-range which meant it would be hard to look him in the eye and command him that way. And I couldn't close the distance without getting blown up by his lasers.

For now I ran away, Legend trailing me from the air. He fired laser after laser, half of them I dodged and the other half usually clipped a wing. I eventually smashed into the nearest bar I could find to get out of his line of sight.

Turns out it was the Palanquin. I ran to the phone and called Madison's cell.

" _Er, hello?"_ Madison asked.

"It's me again," I said. "Legend's back, want to try this again?"

" _Gladly. Try not to move too far away from our favorite drinking hole."_

A laser crashed through the roof and burrowed into the floor, lighting the wooden bar on fire. _Shit, sorry about your place Faultline._ I tried to stay away from the hole in the roof so Legend couldn't see me, but five more lasers crashed into the building completely wiping it off the map.

He's not fucking around.

I smiled. This might work. The Palanquin was quickly falling apart so I found a nice corner to hide in and let it. The ceiling was the first to fall and the walls came down with it, burying me in rubble.

Would Legend believe that I had snuck out? I couldn't see through the smoke of the fire and the dust that was kicked up, but I stayed still under the chunk of ceiling that rested on my back. Right now I was buying time until Madison got here.

It took a lot longer for the dust to settle than I would have thought. But eventually it did and Legend plopped himself down in the middle of the smoldering wreckage that used to be the Palanquin.

This was a perfect opportunity to try to get close to him. He probably knew that. It had to have been bait.

I decided to do nothing and wait for Madison to do her thing.

After about twenty seconds Legend shot back up into the air. I guess my ploy didn't keep him distracted for long. Without an earpiece I had no idea if Madison was already here or not waiting to make her move.

I should keep Legend sufficiently distracted, so I burst through the rubble, extended my wings and jumped into the air. I made it about ten feet before my wings were removed from my body and I fell back down in the usual manner.

Then I took off on foot, trying to put some buildings between Legend and me.

One of his lasers appeared next to the wall and smashed into the concrete two feet in front of me. Fuck, I guess those can go through walls.

I kept my eye on the sky and waited for Legend to appear overhead. Then I tried to turn down an alleyway but his aim was good enough to have his lasers follow me. He missed though. Even if his lasers could change direction in mid-air his line of sight couldn't.

By varying my speed I could at least not have my head ripped off every few seconds.

"Come on Legend," I shouted. "You don't want to do this."

I wasn't met with a response. I remember sitting side-by-side with him the day we announced a truce. Somehow I should have seen this would be our future again. Heroes and villains didn't have any hope of ever getting along.

If Legend taught me anything it's that my biggest weakness was I'm entirely close-combat. This was making me target practice for him.

I slid around the side of the same building to get out of his line of sight but it hardly worked, he was faster than me.

I dashed across the street, taking a hit in the leg, and smashed through the window of some clothing store. The last one had been the Palanquin, but this had no affiliation with me at all. Would Legend incinerate this one too?

The answer was yes, yes he would.

Was he trying to teach me not to go into any buildings? That he would blow away anything I tried to use for cover? I could see that. I was only causing more property damage by using it in combat.

I grabbed a piece of rubble and chucked it at Legend. It was decimated by the lasers before getting twenty feet in the air.

In the distance I saw Madison appear in the middle of the air, then vanish and appear higher up. I dashed to the left to grab Legend's attention and as expected a laser smashed through me, detaching my legs from the rest of my body. I fell to the ground and waited for it to reform.

I had missed the moment of truth, but when I stood up again and extended my wings another laser hadn't come. He just hung in mid-air.

Good job, Madison.

She appeared a minute later clutching her arm.

"Good job, Madison."

"Thanks. Broke my fucking arm though," she said. "The bastard made sure he was more than a hundred meters in the air at all times. Except for that trap at the Palanquin. Eventually I had to go up there myself."

"And then you fell back down?" I asked.

"A little ways," she said. "I moved myself back to the ground. But I retain momentum and gravity pulls pretty quickly."

The two of us looked at Legend in the air. Fucking hells that was all three of them. And two of them with the same trick. "I can't believe that worked," I said.

Madison clutched her arm and winced. "I suspect," she said, "that they had a plan involving all three of them. Legend and Eidolon watched for me from the sky and kept careful track of their and my positions while Alexandria went down and distracted you."

"Wouldn't it be smarter to get me into the air and fight hundreds of meters in the air? Out of your reach?"

The sound of an explosion made us both spin on our feet. A column of smoke started rising somewhere in the distance. "Ugh," Madison groaned. "Rioters. Anyways if the three of them had hung out in the air it wouldn't have gotten in your way. They _had_ to come down and beat you. So they controlled it." She shrugged. "Poorly."

I took a look at her arm. "Do you still have some healing?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I can't feel it fixing itself."

So it lasted about six hours. Good to know. "Do you want me to touch you again?"

"Please. Who knows when the powers will shut off."

I grabbed Madison's good arm for a second and then let go. It was weird how easy it was.

Instead of leaving Madison told me about the situation. As planned, HFC was out in force trying to enforce some notion of martial law. The riots only fueled their intensity at that, evidenced by the explosion we'd just heard.

I took to the sky and Madison teleported towards the explosion we'd just heard. Madison beat me and was standing on top of a building. I landed down in the street in the middle of a ring of rioters. An HFC vehicle was completely totaled and on fire. Someone had hit it with a mine of some sort.

Somebody shot me. I turned slowly towards the shot and saw one of the rioters holding a pistol.

"Don't you get I'm trying to help this city?" I shouted.

"Fuck you, devil," the man shouted and unloaded the entire clip into me. After a bunch of shots I finally heard their gun start clicking, in which I charged and grabbed him by the throat.

I just tossed him aside. About half of the rioters started running and half took up baseball bats and tried to actually fight me. At least they were coming after _me_ instead of going after the red tattoos.

Each person who attacked me I casually grabbed by their arm or head or leg and tossed away, curing them in the process. The enthrallment wasn't quick-acting, nor was the fast healing, so they would get up again and resume their attack.

I had to start breaking legs, which was really easy for me. That kept them down for good and their inherited healing would fix it eventually. Or at least mitigate any serious damage from it.

"Why the fuck would you see this city dead?" I shouted as I smashed someone in the shin. They crumpled in front of me and I kicked them to the side. "You're all a bunch of murderers."

"I'd rather die than be a slave," someone shouted and charged at me. I punched them in the stomach and then tossed them away. Unlike with Glory Girl I had to hold back all of my strikes so not to kill them. I had learned that lesson with Bitch.

There were only three people left now in any fighting condition. And of those three, the best weapon one of them had was a crowbar.

"You can't honestly think that," I said. "Death is preferable to me?"

The man raised his crowbar. But before he could attack there was a blinding gold light that appeared in the sky. It shot across like a shooting star and crashed right into the pavement beside us.

I got a good look at it.

Scion.

He looked at me, the expression on his face unreadable. I heard the others flee, but kept my eyes trained on Scion.

This wasn't fair.

The world really _was_ out to kill this city. Even Scion, the paragon of all that was good and right in this world, was standing against me to let this city die in the name of justice.

He took a step towards me and brought his fist down, smashing me into the ground.


	50. Riot End

**Riot End**

Scion's punch didn't have much force behind it. It hadn't even smashed my body away like so many other attacks had. But it made me fall to my knees as if my very life had been punched out of my body.

I was going to die. Scion was going to kill me.

"Damn it," I yelled. I looked up and glared at him. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

He didn't say anything. He stared with an unreadable expression.

"I'm trying to _help_ people," I shouted. "All I want is for everyone to live. I don't want them to be scared." There wasn't any strength in my body to stand up. "People shouldn't have to fear death. It shouldn't be around every corner."

I coughed and my body trembled. My hands were shaking and my throat was dry.

"I don't want to die," I shouted at Scion. "I don't want anyone else to die either. Can't you understand that? Isn't that why you're helping people?"

He was Scion, and he didn't respond.

"Isn't that why anyone helps people? Isn't that why there's heroes?"

I was too weak to stay on my knees. I fell over and crumpled into a heap on the ground, staring up. Scion towered like a mountain above me, his golden glow only enhanced by the sun in the middle of the sky.

I felt the sun's warmth on my face. I didn't have the strength to shout.

"Guess not, huh." I said. "Powers have only hurt us. They only cause death." I used the last of my strength to raise my hand into the air. I tried to grab the sun that had eluded me for over a year. "We'd be better off without them, I bet. Today is a day we should have been looking forward to."

My raised hand fell. I didn't have the strength to move my limbs.

"Damn you," I cursed. "I could have defeated it. I could have defeated death. The heroes, the villains, even the civilians. No one could stop me."

Scion leaned over, casting a shadow over me. This would be the last sight I ever saw. I took down everyone who came after me until Scion. That put me just under Endbringers in terms of threat level. Wonderful.

He reached down and grabbed my head with his hand.

" **Can you?** "

My eyes widened. Did he—

And I saw it. Shapes moving in blackness. Helixes formed in the deepest of space. White creatures floating among the cosmos. Tendrils emerged and planets were devoured. Shards launched and recovered, thousands of years of history and cycle after cycle. Alternate dimensions. Uncountably many deaths and immeasurable amounts of knowledge received.

And confusion. And loss. And uncertainty. Goals, motivations and death. And death and death and death—

The stars would go supernovae, dust would scatter and new stars would be reborn. And slowly black holes would form, stealing away the stardust from the universe. And eon after eon there would be less stars in the sky, and more and more black holes. But then those would evaporate, leaving nothing left but a vast expanse of emptiness.

I could see it. All of it happened in front of my eyes. The universe died.

All of everything would come to an end in a whimper as the stars winked out of existence. How stupid. How stupid I had been to worry about Brockton Bay.

Scion lifted his hand from my head and I hyperventilated. I didn't—there wasn't—

I cried. The number had seemed so large. Eighty thousand lives. Mere minutes ago it had been such an overwhelmingly large amount of people. I had to save them at any cost. But it was nothing.

Eighty thousand was nothing. Compared to all the universes and all the dimensions. There were no names for the numbers for how many lives there were. Planets were devoured, billions killed. But it was nothing. Compared to everyone. Compared to saving everyone, what was a few trillion people? Or even ten times that, or a hundred. A trillion planets was _nothing_ compared to _everyone._

Except,

"I don't want to be sacrified," I said.

It wasn't an argument. Scion stared.

"I'm not prey."

He stared.

"We want the same thing."

He was gone from my vision. All that remained was the sun shining down on me. Was one final blow coming to finish me off? I made sure to keep my eyes open. I looked at the blue sky and the golden sun. At least I would be able to die under this warmth I had been deprived of for a year.

I clenched my teeth.

" _No,"_ I shouted. I forced myself to spin onto all fours. My limbs were too weak to support me, but I made them support me anyways. "No," I shouted again. Even if it's shameless. Even if I deserved a quiet death right there in the sun.

Fuck that!

I'm going to fight. I'll eat the dirt I walk on if I have to. To live, survive and breath. It doesn't matter who I have to swear fealty to or what deals I have to make. Or who I have to piss off or who I have to hurt. I want to live and I'm—

I'm—

"I'm going to live, damn it!"

I forced myself up and spread my wings. Scion was still there, right there a few yards away. His expression forever unreadable. He couldn't be beaten, but I could run away. That was all I could do. Run away, hide, flee, survive. That's all I was going to do. Survive.

My knees were ready to buckle at a moment's notice, but I was standing. My wings kept me balanced but they were heavy on my back.

I lifted a foot up and placed it behind me. A single step. That was all it took to run away. Steps in the opposite direction. As long as I could accomplish that I could survive.

Scion stepped in succession with me, but his steps were longer and faster than mine. He was on top of me and grabbed my hair, throwing my head back to look at him. _Not him. It._

"It's you, right?" I spat. "You take the powers away. Today your experiment is over, you'll take the shards and kill everyone. Did you learn anything?"

Silence.

"Fuck you either way. What should I care if you stop the death of the universe? I won't be in it. None of us will."

He dropped me onto the ground. My knees couldn't handle it and I fell onto my face.

"Not one person you killed would agree," I screamed into the ground. "All those worlds? Not one of them would agree. Your goal might be noble, but everyone you kill hopes you fail. A trillion-trillion snuffed out lives all wished for your demise. And everything like you."

I reached my arm out and grabbed onto the pavement, dragging myself along the road. I could see Scion's feet in the corner of my vision, but I ignored it. Until my last breath I would struggle if only to spite the thing looking down on me.

My head smashed to the ground as Scion grabbed it. But the impact threw more memories into my brain that weren't my own. Two entities intertwined, one of them lost and the other lost in a different way. They were boats floating down a forked river.

There was a light and a direction for the entity, but it had led nowhere.

There was a fear that the lost entity had suffered the worst fate in the universe and was gone.

There was confusion.

I grabbed the pavement and dragged myself again. "Fuck you," I said. "You know what happened. You fucking know what happened." My fingers dug into the asphalt. "Because of you, we all feel that. We all lost someone. It's your fault."

Scion's hand was still on my head so I couldn't drag myself away. Loss, fear and confusion. He kept throwing that at me as if I knew how to fix it.

"Say something you fuck."

There was no response, but there never was. Scion grabbed me by the shoulder and rolled me over. He knelt over me, his expression unreadable. Because it wasn't an expression. It wasn't a human, it was just an illusion of one.

 _Oh._

"You don't know," I said. "You don't know what you're doing."

No response, but it was correct.

"Just leave," I said. "You've fucked up this experiment. You're hurting us for no reason. Are you that callous? To kill this world for no reason?"

Scion still didn't move, but his hand pinned my head to the ground. Images I'd already seen flashed through my mind of powers being taken away, killing their hosts.

"Like hell you're doing that," I spat. "You're telling me with all your power you can't leave without killing everyone? _You find a way._ Here's something for you to do: take _fucking responsibility_ for all the pain you've caused. You take that pain onto yourself and put it right.

I pushed myself to my knees, Scion releasing my head from his grasp. My body could barely keep itself upright, but I reached out and grabbed its shoulder.

For a long time it stared at me. Whatever words were supposed to come next out of my mouth, I couldn't think of them. I used Scion to force myself up onto my feet and hobble away. Run away and survive. To live, all I had to do was that.

" **Goodbye."**

I turned around to see a flash of yellow and Scion was gone. I stood up straighter, control of my limbs coming back to me. My wings could fold and unfold as before and my legs could support my weight.

Madison was lying on the ground in the distance. I ran up to her body and knelt down. "Madison," I said. When she didn't respond I shook her by the shoulder.

She groaned. "What..."

I helped her sit upright. She grabbed onto my arm for support until she got her bearings. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah." Madison looked at her hands. "It's gone."

"What is?"

"My teleportation. It's gone." She reached into the pocket of her transistor sweatshirt and pulled out a small gun. She cradled it in her hand. "This is all I have to protect myself now."

I looked up at the sky, but there wasn't any sign of it. "Scion left," I said. "And he took his powers with him."

 _Looks like he found a way._ I wondered what it cost him.

"I don't know what that means," Madison said. "But I think I understand the relevant part."

I stood up and helped Madison to her feet. Around us were people staring in shock and wonder, but beyond them the sounds of riots echoed. Things like that didn't stop all at once, even if something world-changing had happened.

"What did you stay to him?" Madison asked. "I couldn't make it out."

"Mostly yelling," I said. "I can't remember the exact words."

It didn't seem like a good idea to tell Madison everything I had learned. Maybe I would tell her later, after I had thought through everything Scion had forced on me. But right now there was a very real problem in front of me. A city was rioting.

The inevitable heat death of the universe would have to wait. That was a problem for another day.

I stared at the ground. _It would be solved though,_ I added in my mind. It was a problem I must attempt to solve. I can't put it off forever.

"Will you believe me if I say it _now?"_ Madison asked.

"Say what?"

"That no one will get in your way. That you can do anything you want and no one will stop you."

I smiled. "Tell that to the Endbringers."

Madison brought her hand to her face. Her point did ring true though. When I decided to save this city, the Triumvariate had fallen to me within hours and Scion himself turned around and left. My joke was frightening in its truth: if the Endbringers were gone, there _wouldn't_ be anyone or anything that could stand against me.

It wasn't a scary thought. It was a pleasant one.

I put a hand on Madison's shoulder. "If you stay out here you're going to die," I said.

She reached her arm up and grabbed my hand. "Then I'll borrow that healing of yours for a time longer. I hope I don't fall in love with you while doing so. Do you think tinker-tech still works?"

"Yes," I said. If Scion had retrieved his shards and left, that only meant we couldn't use powers anymore. But things built by and created by powers would still exist. "But we won't be getting any more of it."

Madison nodded. "I liked Squealer's vehicles."

"To be honest, Bakuda really _did_ impress me with her stuff. I wasn't play-acting about her."

The city was in riots, but immediately in front of us there was nothing. The few people that had been hidden fled after Scion left, unwilling to face me when he didn't.

I stepped behind Madison and swept her into my arms. Without her ability she couldn't do anything to stop me and she didn't even try. She just wrapped her arms around me and held on. "Let's save this city, Madison," I said.

She shook her head. " _Our_ city, Taylor. Let's save _our_ city."

I extended my wings and took to the sky.


	51. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The black limousine drove down the arterial road to the docks. It stopped in front of a building that was little more than a glorified slab of concrete. There was a single door in front with a sign labeled HFC above it.

Construction was being done. It looked like windows were being put in.

The driver opened the door and a woman stepped out of the limousine. She adjusted her fedora and made sure her suit was straight. Then she walked towards the building and opened up the door.

It was not unlike a waiting room in a doctor's office. There was a couch, a television, some magazines and a counter at the end with someone sitting behind it. She walked up to the person manning the counter, a young woman with fangs. "Welcome to HFC," the receptionist said. "What can I help you with?"

"Tell Taylor her mother is here to see her."

The clerk looked confused but picked up her phone regardless. The woman went and took a seat on the couch while she waited for Taylor to come down and speak with her. It was the one thing to say that would get her attention immediately.

As expected, within two minutes Taylor had come down to greet her.

"You must have a death wish making a joke like that," she said. She gave the intruder her best glare.

"It's not a joke," the woman responded. "I _am_ your mother. Or maybe it's better to say I am _Wingspan's_ mother." She pointed at Taylor. "I am the one who gave you your power."

Taylor inhaled. "Cauldron."

"You may call me Contessa," she said. "But yes, I am also Cauldron. We should talk. I'm sure you have a lot to ask me."

Taylor was unsure of what to do. Contessa let her figure it out because eventually Taylor invited her up into one of the conference rooms. "There's some others who have some questions for you too," Taylor said.

"Yes, I'm aware." Contessa said. "Bring them all."

That was how Contessa found herself seated at the head of the conference table with Taylor Hebert, Faultline and the rest of the crew. And, Contessa noted, one of the thralls serving them tea in a delightful maid uniform. It wasn't poisoned so Contessa took a sip.

"It would be better for me to tell the story," she said, "and for you to ask questions after."

Everyone around the table nodded. Contessa cleared her throat.

"Scion was a danger to humanity," she opened. "It was originally him and another, whom we call Eden, that came here. They are the source of parahuman abilities. Their goal was to bestow powers upon people and let them grow. Then they would have left, taking their powers with them and leaving a planet in ruin. Our species would not have survived. However, their plan did not succeed. Eden is dead.

"We defiled Eden's corpse to understand how powers work. This is the source of Cauldron capes. It required rigorous experimentation for us to achieve an adequate understanding. This is what happened to the three of you," Contessa said and gestured to Newter, Gregor and Shamrock. "You were experimented on so we could understand powers."

She turned towards them properly.

"Gregor, your real name is Alexander Redding. You grew up in a small town in Kansas called Greensboro, but you no longer have any living family members. You ran away from home to go to New York, but ended up dying in an alleyway. We grabbed you then.

"Newter, your real name is Kenneth Brown. Your mother is still alive under the belief that you committed suicide. This is something you set up by yourself before you came to us. You paid us to get powers, but you became monstrous so we erased your memory and dropped you." Contessa wrote something down. "This is your mother's address if you care. Her name is Marsha."

Contessa slid the paper over to Newter, who took it with widened eyes. But she didn't give him time to mull it over before continuing her conversation.

"All of this experimentation was for one purpose." Contessa turned her attention towards Taylor. "You."

"What?"

"We needed to create you, so we needed to understand _how_ to create you. This was the purpose of Cauldron. To create the parahuman Wingspan. We needed a parahuman who would be able to prevent death in other people. But not something like Panacea. We needed a cruel ability. A horrible one that had an associated cost to its benefits. This is what we needed, because we needed chaos to brew around you.

"All of it lead up to Valentine's Day," Contessa continued, "and all we ultimately needed was the right conversation. What you told Scion was entirely constructed. Every aspect of your power was meticulously designed to push you into the right circumstances to obtain the right set of ideas about the world. When the critical moment came, you parroted all you've experienced perfectly and convinced Scion to leave."

"That's impossible," Taylor said. "There's no way you could have that much control."

Contessa shook her head. "I am also a parahuman. My power is to know exactly what I have to do to win. I may not know why I have to do it, but I know it's necessary. I can speculate now, in retrospect, but when I was forming your ability I had no idea why I had to do what I did. Why did you need to be weak against sunlight and running water? I didn't know, but I did it anyways. That was what led to victory.

"I believe your weakness to water was precisely so you didn't intervene during Leviathan. Your weakness to sunlight was likely to ostracize you from society. But this is simply after-the-fact speculation. All of it was to push you into the exact state of mind and give you the exact experiences you'd need to be able to say what you did in front of Scion.

"I really did control you, Taylor." Contessa continued. "Even from your very first night. I was the one who contacted Faultline to come find you in the warehouse district. I was the one who sent the PRT after you after Leviathan. I even issued orders to people during the Red Sky incident and I helped Dinah reach your warehouse. Alexandria followed my commands on how to 'defeat' you."

Taylor's hands were shaking. Contessa waited for her inevitable question. Eventually Taylor took a deep breath. "Why me?" She asked.

"This may not be the answer you want to hear," Contessa said. "The city had to be Brockton Bay, because it's where Leviathan would strike as well as having a huge parahuman population. In this city, four hundred and twelve people were viable options. By the time we were ready to administer the ability, ten people were immediately accessible. Of those ten, you were the easiest to dose."

Contessa's words hung in the air. _Easiest to dose._ No one could muster up the words to continue the conversation. No one except Contessa.

"I'm sorry for everything I have done," she said. "But I would have done it again. There are so many different ways that our world could have died. If Scion had ever come into contact with Jack Slash, everything would have ended. Even if not, fifty years down the line something else would have happened and Scion would have gone on a rampage. This had to be taken care of, even though no one will know you saved the world.

"If it helps, the Endbringers are also no longer a threat after the events of Valentine's Day."

Taylor looked up from her lap. "Because of Scion?"

Contessa shook her head. "No. Because you killed Eidolon."

The room shared looks. Eventually Taylor had the guts to ask. "What?"

"The Endbringers were fighting Eidolon," Contessa said, "not the world. Now that he's dead they have no reason to fight. They'll do nothing for the rest of time."

By Taylor's expression this was not the best of news. Taylor ran her hands through her hair. "During that day," Taylor said, "I had the thought that after Scion and the Endbringers... I was the worst threat. Which means right now I am the most dangerous thing on this planet."

"Yes," Contessa verified.

Taylor put her head in her hands and started sobbing. Contessa said nothing, nor did anyone else at the table. "A-Are you going to kill me now?" She asked. "Now that I've done your dirty work?"

"No."

Taylor looked up with teared eyes. Contessa tried to keep her expression neutral, but it was hard for her. "Why not?" Taylor asked. "Isn't that how this story ends?"

"It's not how I plan on ending it," Contessa said. "I'm tired, Taylor. I knew what Scion was planning and I knew I had to stop it. I don't know what you're planning. I have no idea. And if I start executing people who _might_ end the world then I'll never stop. I'm exhausted. I'm done. And you deserve a break anyways, Taylor Hebert. You're the most powerful person in the entire world. Do whatever you want to do. No one will stop you."

"Excuse me," Faultline interrupted. "But there was concern over what happens after Valentine's. After everyone lost their powers, we're seeing what we expected to see. Calvert controlling the PRT and taking down Cauldron villains immediately."

"Yes, you're concerned with Cauldron's role in the future. We're disbanding in a manner of speaking. The entity known as Eden will be annihilated completely and utterly. This is our last act as Cauldron. Humanity will stand on its own without powers, except for those that have already been granted. Calvert will not be keeping his, and what you choose to do about him is your own perogative. But there will be no new superpowers. Not ever."

She turned back to Gregor and Newter. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I do not know how to turn you back to normal. Panacea could, but she lost her ability when Scion left."

They didn't say anything in response. The entire table was quiet. Eventually Contessa stood up and bowed.

"I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you. I am sorry for ruining your lives." She rose from her bow. "But I, too, want to live. And I will scratch and kick to do so."

There weren't any more questions for the mysterious stranger that entered HFC. Contessa left shortly thereafter without finishing her tea. The table was quiet and solemn. Gregor and Shamrock were the first two to get up, followed by Newter.

Faultline put a hand on Taylor's shoulder.

"T, I think I'm going to go away for awhile," she said. "I don't know if the others will come with me, but I need a change of pace."

"I understand." Taylor stood up and faced Faultline. They were around the same height now. "Thank you for everything you've done for me. I know that you don't like what I've turned into, but it doesn't change the fact that I love you. You were a mother to me."

Faultline smiled. "I was a pretty crap mother."

"Maybe a big sister, then. Stop ruining the moment."

Faultline embraced Taylor in a hug. "It's not a goodbye. Just a see ya' later."

"Right," Taylor said. "Just a see ya' later."

And with a wave Faultline left the conference room, leaving Taylor alone with Sophia. She was standing in the corner, perfectly blended in to the background. A reminder of the sorts of things Taylor decided to do with her power.

Taylor left the room and ran into Madison in the hallway. They both froze.

"Taylor," Madison said. "Can we talk?"

Taylor nodded and the two of them went into Madison's office. She still had an office and was still the director of HFC, but she was missing one critical thing. Her ability to teleport.

The two of them sat down in opposite chairs. Madison's tiny little pistol was on the desk in front of her.

"I fought so hard," Madison said. "So hard to not be enthralled by you. I played you and manipulated you and rode your wings to where I'm standing today. And you didn't even realize I was doing so." She smiled. "Well, on second thought you probably knew I was doing it."

"Yeah."

"But now I'm powerless. More than that, though..." Madison held her arm. "I can see what is going to happen to the world now."

"Care to tell me about it?"

"It's going to bend to your will."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "This is the first I'm hearing about this."

"None of your thralls have died, Taylor. Not _ever._ Their healing is good enough to keep them alive. Yours even more so. I'm not sure it's even possible for them to die. Don't think ten, twenty or even fifty years down the line. Think centuries. Think in a millennium, when you're still here on this Earth and you look back and remember that one year where everything changed so long ago. No one will remember except you and those you bring with you into the future. To everyone else, parahumans might be a mere legend. Something that didn't really happen.

"Where will you be standing in this future, Taylor? In a millennium? In this concrete slab of a building? In a little house in the suburbs?" Madison shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Not after so much time has passed and you are the ever-present constant in the world. You and your devoted thralls proudly defying death.

"I believe you will be a god, Taylor." Madison said. "You will be god of the world. You will be worshiped and those who do so are treated to an eternity of happiness. Heaven, if you will. Millenniums from now after people slowly get used to your presence."

"That's absurd, Madison."

"I don't think so. I think it is the best possible thing that could happen to this planet. To really have a god that can grant us happiness? To have eternal life? Most people worship a god anyways already, the only difference is you're one that can stand in front of us and speak."

Before Taylor could respond Madison dropped to her knees.

"I'm so sorry, Taylor," she said. "For everything that I have done to you. Please enthrall me. Please let me, the horrible person who tortured you, into Heaven. I do not wish to die."

The only sound in the office was the sound of the clock ticking in the background. Madison's analysis rang of absurdity. Taylor didn't believe it, not at all. She didn't believe it. Taylor didn't want to be God, she never signed up for that.

But she didn't want anyone to die either. Not even Madison, the person who tortured her. So Taylor lowered herself and put her hand on Madison's shoulder.

And she bared her fangs.

 **The End**

 **Thank you for reading.**


End file.
